


Let's Run Away For Just A Minute

by SimplerontheInside



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, And so much travelling, F/M, Gen, Minor Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Minor Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore, Minor Rebekah Mikaelson/Stefan Salvatore, Shakespeare, and also CW spoofs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplerontheInside/pseuds/SimplerontheInside
Summary: Since moving to LA to become Elena's assistant Caroline has met plenty of famous people. She's even been photographed by paparazzi a few times,while delivering coffees and putting out fires for the cast of the wildly popular TV show "Mystic".After six months of on-set drama, she's convinced that nothing phases her anymore.That is until she finds herself in the middle of Stefan and Elena's latest fight, exploring the south of Spain with Klaus Mikaelson, the biggest movie star on the planet. Who apparently has a thing for her.Life just got interesting.All human, Hollywood AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> She takes another sip of champagne, swallows, hard. His eyes follow the lines of her neck, lips tugging up in a smirk. Caroline had a poster of this man in her college dorm room, wearing that very expression.
> 
> Prologue: Caroline and Klaus meet in an airport lounge. It doesn't go well.

Flying with Elena has it’s pros and cons. Pro: flying business class without having to pay for it. Con: having to run interception with fans in airport lounges. Pro: airport lounges.

“I’m fine Caroline,” Elena whispers, as two girls who look about twelve shyly approach.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, grab us a seat.”

Caroline scoops up her glass of complimentary champagne and moves to give Elena some space with her fans. She mentally adds free champagne to her list of pros when it comes to travelling with Elena. The two of them have been exploring the world together (or at least their small corner of it) since they were teenagers. But travel accommodations have improved drastically since Elena got cast in Mystic and hired Caroline as her assistant.

Another nice thing about airport lounges? Unlike the crowded terminals she and Elena used to camp out in with oversized backpacks, there are almost always free seats. Free, comfortable, seats.

Except today, apparently. The usual cozy booths she’s gotten used to settling in between long flights are looking crowded today. Tired families and take up most of the tables, and two pairs of men in dark suits take up the bar.

There’s section free at the very back, a table with four plush chairs. A man sits with his back to her in the farthest. She can only see the back of his head, but he’s wearing a suit and looks too old to watch a teen drama - it’s unlikely he’ll care about Elena.

“Hey, are these seats taken?” Caroline chirps, dropping her handbag on one and settling into the other. The question is more of a courtesy than anything. The chairs are a soft plushy leather, miles more comfortable than plane seats, and she’s not leaving.

The guy across from her looks vaguely familiar in a ripped up tee and grey jeans. Caroline takes a sip of her champagne, searching for a place to put it down, wondering where she’s seen him before.

“All yours love.”

The voice is familiar, and Caroline almost does a very ungraceful spit take when she looks up and realizes it’s Klaus Mikaelsson sitting across from her. That worn tee probably cost more than her months rent.

“Uh, I can move.” She finds herself offering, halfway to her feet already. Klaus Mikaelsson is a proper movie star, the kind who probably considers flying first class a downgrade from his private plane. Caroline is suddenly pretty sure that the guys she’d skirted around at the bar are his security, and that they’re on their way to pull her away now.

“Why would you do that?” his voice is a purr, pulling her in and putting her on edge simultaneously. 

She takes another sip of champagne, swallows, hard. His eyes follow the lines of her neck, lips tugging up in a smirk. Caroline had a poster of this man in her college dorm room, wearing that very expression.

“I have a friend joining me,” she says.

“The one drawing teenagers like flies?”

She follows his eyes to where Elena stands, surrounded by a small group of starstruck fans taking selfies. She’s always thought it was cute, but Klaus seems less amused. Maybe he’s worried someone will recognize him.

“And where are you flying to today, sweetheart?” He asks, when it becomes clear Elena will be busy a while.

“London. We’re shooting a Christmas special for Mystic for a few weeks.”

“How fun.”

Caroline tries to remind herself that she’s not in high school anymore, and that she meets semi-famous people every day. She doesn’t need to impress the movie star in front of her.

“It will be, actually.” She finds herself snapping, “we’re going to shut down Covent Garden for two days.” And shoot romantic scenes with Big Ben in the background, but even to Caroline that seems a bit cheesy.

Klaus smiles, as if reading her mind.

“And what else will you see, while you’re there?” He asks.

Caroline hesitates. She’s got a list, of course. But she’s pretty sure that a man who once played Hamlet at the Globe Theatre won’t be all that impressed with her plan to take photos in front of Buckingham palace.

“Museums,” she says finally.

“You should go to the Victoria and Albert then,” he recommends immediately, “there’s a cafe in the courtyard that’s exquisite on a weekday morning, when the tourists are still sleeping. You can always find artists with sketchbooks hiding among the sculptures.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“It is.” He smiles at her, “And if you want something a tad more classic, there’s always carriage rides around Hyde Park.”

That’s near Kensington palace, she thinks. Where Will and Kate live. Not that she’d been hoping for a sighting or anything. A carriage ride past a palace sounds like the most romantic thing in the world. She tries to keep her voice light and breezy.

“Maybe if I have time.”

Klaus nods. He gives her a quick once over, curious, “Mystic is the show with Stefan Salvatore, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?”

“Not anymore.” He tilts his head, thinking, “I happen to be on my way to London as well. Are you flying business or first class?”

He doesn’t seem like the subtle type, but Caroline is still a bit shocked by the question. How rude. She looks to where Elena is signing the last of her autographs, blissfully unaware of the conversation Caroline is having.

Klaus takes her silence for an answer, and nods decisive.

“Why don’t I have you bumped up to first?” he offers, waving a hand like the two thousand dollar fee means nothing (she and Elena looked it up before they left, when Caroline heard that Emirates offered actual stone massages in their first class cabin). It probably doesn’t.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m travelling alone,” Klaus explains, nonchalant, “We could continue our conversation. In very comfortable seats.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Well, give me eight hours over the Atlantic to find out.”

“I’m fine where I am, thank you,” She bites the words out between gritted teeth. 

He frowns, as if only just realizing what he might have implied. “I meant no offence, love.”

“I’m not offended. I just don’t feel like being Klaus Mikaelsson’s carry on. And don’t call me that.”

“Apologies, love.” His eyes twinkle, amused, “how can I redeem myself?”

How can he still be flirting? Caroline stands, tipping back the last of her champagne. It wasn’t all that good anyway. 

“No need,” she says, trying to ignore the perfect blue-grey colour of his eyes as he turns the full force of his charm up at her. Elena has turned to wave at her from the other side of the room, the perfect excuse to escape. Klaus is half standing to follow her, looking puzzled for the first time.

“We need to board soon.” Caroline snaps, “It was nice to meet you. I think.”

Klaus thinks for a beat, then seems to realize she’s serious. He settles back in his seat and raises his glass, expression unreadable, “until next time then.”

 

“What was that?” Elena asks, as Caroline takes her by the elbow, steering the two of them towards the exit.

“Nothing. We should find our gate.”

Elena casts a glance over her shoulder, to where Caroline is sure Klaus is still smirking behind them. If her friend finds out there’s an A-lister in the vicinity - and that Caroline may have flirted with him - she’ll never heard the end of it.

Luckily it looks like his security has closed in, a large man in a suit taking Caroline’s empty seat, and Elena misses Klaus completely.

“Fine,” she sighs, taking Caroline’s arm, “I can’t believe you’re making me leave without champagne.”

“We’ll get some on the plane.”

 

Klaus watches the pretty blonde flee with her popular friend in tow. He thinks he recognizes the brunette now, Elena something-or-other, the one Stefan’s been dating on and off since starting that silly soap opera. He’s never had an opinion on her before, never had a reason to. 

But the other girl might be worth some research. He’s not a man accustomed to picking up women in airports - even movie stars have some standards - but she’d had an allure he couldn’t ignore. She’d known who he was, but had held back from being starstruck. Had actually argued with him, snapped back when he’d pushed too far.

Elijah would tell him he liked being challenged. Rebekah would roll her eyes and tell him he only wanted things he couldn’t have.

Both would be right. He unlocks his phone, punching in a familiar number.

“Marcel, what can you tell me about Stefan Salvatore?”

“Klaus, do you know what time it is in Los Angeles right now?” Marcel’s voice filters across the line, fuzzy with sleep.

Klaus just hums, lets his colleague read the silence. He’d built Marcel from the ground up, using family contacts and his own name to get him a studio job where he could listen in on the high ups when Klaus needed him to. Marcel might entertain the idea that he works for himself now, but he’d be wrong.

He grumbles something Klaus doesn’t quite catch, then sighs, giving in. “All I’ve heard is he’s still shooting Mystic, that drama about teenage werewolves or whatever. Dating his co-star… I think the studio set that up for publicity but it’s genuine now. Pretty boring guy, not much on his past.”

Yes, Klaus and his family had worked hard to keep it that way.

“And the co-star, the Gilbert girl, she’s travelling to London.”

“Why are you asking me if you already know?”

Klaus wonders if Marcel needs a reminder of who exactly his boss is. Maybe they need to have a chat, the next time they’re on the same continent.

“Tell me Marcel, how is Davina doing these days?”

Marcel fall quiet. Good. Klaus hates visiting LA. He hears a rustle of fabric, can picture the other man slowly sitting up in bed, glaring daggers at him from across the ocean.

“They’re shooting a Christmas special,” he says finally, falling into line, “Gilbert plays Salvatore’s love interest, so she’ll be there for the whole shoot.”

“Good,” Klaus says, “she’s travelling with an assistant. Blonde, pretty. I need you to find me her name.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you think I came all this way just to find you, love?”
> 
> She resists the urge to slap him. Instead, she snatches the empty glass he’s still playing with from his hand and sets it down on the bar. Hard.
> 
> “As I said, I wasn’t thinking about you at all."
> 
>  
> 
> When scandal hits, Caroline puts herself in charge of damage control. Klaus only seems set on making it all worse.

It’s been over two weeks since Caroline’s run in with Klaus, and she’s decided to forget about the charming Englishman who all but propositioned her in an airport lounge. London is amazing, full of things to distract herself with when they’re not shooting. They’ve been to plays in the west end, and perfume launches at Harrods. Elena and Stefan need to be photographed pretty much everywhere, and plenty of clubs are willing to exchange free champagne and gift bags for photographs of B-list celebrities walking through the door. At this point Caroline thinks Elena is making almost as much off of instagram as she is acting.

Not that she’s complaining. The two of them got their photo in front of Buckingham palace the very first day, and they’ve been scarfing down high tea at every opportunity. Caroline hasn’t been to Hyde Park yet though, and she while she’s walked through Chelsea plenty of times, she’s yet to step inside the Victoria and Albert. She tells herself she’s worried she’ll run into Klaus somehow. Or, a small part of her knows, be disappointed when she doesn’t. 

Besides, she’s busy. Elena’s schedule is insane as usual. Bonnie is the best agent ever and has lined up at least two interviews every day when they’re not filming, and there’s dinners to book and parties to scavenge invitations for as always. If Caroline works hard at it - and she does - she can fill every moment of her day with Elena business, crowding Klaus and his lovely accent out of her head.

A knock on the trailer door jolts her out of the beginning of a daydream that may or may not feature a carriage ride. Caroline opens the door to find Stefan standing outside, arms crossed and fidgeting.

“Caroline. Hi.”

“Stefan.”

He looks hesitant. Maybe he’s looking for Elena? She’s shooting a scene at the moment, leaving Caroline with some time in the trailer alone to work on booking their flights home. Bonnie’s decided that Elena should fly first class now that Mystic has a third season lined up, and Caroline has to convince the producers that keeping her bosses happy is worth the hefty fee.

“Uh, can I come in?”

“Sure,” Caroline steps aside so he can brush past her into the trailer, “but just so you know, Elena’s still filming. I’m just working on getting our tickets upgraded for the route home.”

“Oh, yeah. The studio’s pretty cheap about that stuff.”

He’s the star of the show. Half the reason Elena wants first class now is that she heard Stefan had been getting it from the beginning. Which seems fair enough. She could be a co-lead next season.

Caroline’s’ pretty sure that’s not what Stefan is here to talk about.

She doesn’t know Elena’s boyfriend all that well, more as a co-worker on the show than anything else. Mystic is going strong into it’s third season, with Stefan and Elena’s onscreen chemistry one of the leading reasons the small town drama has taken off so successfully. And yeah, when the studio suggested that Elena start dating her co-star, Caroline had been the hesitant best friend. But up until now, she’s never seen Stefan display even the slightest weirdness. He’s been a model boyfriend on and off screen, so much so that Caroline has occasionally found herself jealous of Elena’s picture perfect life.

Now Stefan is sitting on the sofa, staring off into space like he’s forgotten she’s even here, and she feels a knot of worry forming in her gut that has nothing to do with jealousy.

“Stefan? Is everything okay? I can call Elena from set.”

He jumps when she says his name, then shakes his head.

“No,” He says, “don’t. I actually wanted to talk to you, if you don’t mind?”

“No, that’s okay. About anything in particular?”

The look he gives her is telling, and so she shuts the door quietly, moving to perch on the edge of the desk, before he finally speaks, dropping his head into his hands.

“I think Elena’s cheating on me.”

“What? Stefan, that’s insane.”

He looks up at her with the most miserable expression she’s ever seen, and Caroline has to carefully remind herself that actors are dramatic people, and it’s probably not all that bad. Still, she kind of wants to give him a hug. She settles for moving beside him on the couch, and awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“Okay. Who with?”

He tells her, and suddenly Klaus Mikaelsson becomes the very least of Caroline’s worries.

 

“Hey, just curious, are you sleeping with Damon Salvatore?”

The look Elena shoots her is equal parts irritated and offended, but it’s not until she mutters a quick “what? No. Don’t be ridiculous Care.” That Caroline is certain she’s lying. Elena is a decent enough actress, but she’s never been able to lie to her best friend.

“Oh my god, you are.” Caroline hits her with the rolled up call sheet she’d been carrying, and Elena raises her latte as a shield, nearly dousing them both in hot coffee.

“Okay, okay. Geez. Can we not talk about this here?” Elena puts the coffee down and pulls Caroline out of the studio. For someone so skinny she’s got a death grip, and Caroline is only able to pull her wrists free when they’re in safely hidden in the stairway, heavy studio door closed behind them.

It’s soundproof, so Caroline feels no shame in all but shrieking at the other girl, as Elena reaches into her costume jacket to check her mic is switched off.

“I cannot believe you lied to me about this!”

“I didn’t lie, I omitted information.”

“Omitted information… as in you didn’t tell me that you’re cheating on your very hot, very famous, very nice boyfriend? With his very not nice brother?”

“Stefan’s not that much more famous than me.”

“Really? That’s what you got from that?”

Elena bites her lip, “Damon’s not everything they say he is. He cares about me.”

“That doesn’t make Stefan any less nice.”

Elena runs a hand through her hair, messing up hours of work in the makeup chair with the one motion. 

“This isn’t about Stefan.”

“Of course it is.”

Elena glares at her, stubborn. It’s her go-to look, whenever the puppy dog eyes fail. But if Elena thinks stubborn is going to work on her, she has another thought coming. The two of them have been having versions of this stand off since they met in kindergarten, and Elena has yet to win one when Caroline knows she’s in the right.

“Fine.” Elena throws her hands in the air, “you can think whatever you want. But you know the relationship with Stefan was always for the show.”

“That’s mean. He totally loves you.”

“So does Damon.”

She can’t deny that’s true. Damon Salvatore has been after Elena since the day she was cast. But loving Elena is easy - everyone from their grumpy first grade teacher to famous Hollywood producers to random fans on Jimmy Kimmel love Elena, in varying degrees. 

“Stefan is nice.”

Elena rolls her eyes, but Caroline holds her ground. She may not know Stefan all that well, but she likes him, dammit. He’s the first nice boyfriend Elena’s had since the two of them fought over Matt in high school. He hosted a movie night for them at his beverly hills house with it’s own mini theatre when Black Panther came out, and last summer he’d lent her and Bonnie his convertible for a road trip up the coast. Damon looked down his nose at assistants and tended to ignore people he didn’t think were worth knowing, Caroline being one of them. One of the big perks of filming the Christmas Special in London was that as a consulting producer he really hadn’t had a reason to tag along.

“Maybe I’m sick of nice,” Elena says, and she’s only saved from Caroline smacking her with the call sheet again, hours in the makeup chair be damned, by the assistant director opening the studio door and clearing her throat.

“Miss Gilbert? We’re ready for you on set.”

“Yes of course,” Elena breezes past Caroline with a practiced smile, “Sorry about that.”

Caroline glares at her retreating form, as if to remind her that the conversation is definitely not over.

As usual, Elena ignores her.

 

It all blows up before they can even wrap the episode, and Caroline ends up pulling an all nighter on the phone with Bonnie and about a hundred studio executives in her hotel room, while trying to ignore what might be the sounds of Damon and Elena having a very enthusiastic, very loud, reunion in the suite next door.

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie asks, after everyone else has hung up and it’s just the two of them on the line, “but what exactly is happening over there? Is someone banging on the door?”

“Worse,” Caroline glares at the wall dividing their hotel rooms, “I’m pretty sure Damon and Elena found their way through the media circus back here.”

The line clicks off, and a second later she’s getting a Skype notification from Bonnie. She clicks accept and her friend’s face appears on the screen, looking green.

“Sorry, but I figured we should be face to face for this.”

“Yeah we’re not the only ones.”

“Caroline!”

“Sorry! Sorry. It’s just that I’m pretty sure Stefan is moping in the bar downstairs, and there’s no way he’s going to miss all the pap photos coming out tomorrow morning.

“Yeah, that’s gonna suck.”

It would more than suck. Elena might be Caroline’s best friend, but she feels for Stefan on this one. For some reason - possibly just to piss off his brother - Damon had thought it would be an excellent idea to fly over and surprise Elena in her trailer right before she was slated to film the big proposal scene with his brother. And while Elena had certainly been pleased to see him, Stefan had been less impressed when he knocked on the door to practice lines.

It was the first time in his career he’d ever walked off a film set, and the paparazzi had eaten it up. He’d only escaped the flashing cameras when Damon and Elena made the incredibly stupid mistake of being caught kissing outside the hotel, after the producers finally gave in and sent everybody home.

Though, now that she thinks about it, it may not have been entirely a mistake, on Damon’s part. The older man seemed to have it out for his brother.

“Wait,” Bonnie said, pulling Caroline out of her thoughts, “looks like Stefan’s got some company down there.”

“What?”

Bonnie responded by sending Caroline a link through the chat function. A quick click confirmed the worst - someone was posting photos on twitter of Stefan at the hotel bar.

At the moment he looked relatively sober, but it was hard to tell with actors. Caroline had certainly made that mistake before. And unlike Elena, Stefan almost never had an assistant travel with him - there was no one looking out for him, no one to count drinks and scare off tourists with camera phones.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Should we call someone?”

“No. I’ll go down and see if I can convince him to brood in private before this gets bad.”

“Okay, try not to end up on the front page.” Bonnie warned.

“Please, have you seen the ratings? We’re third page at the highest.” She shuts the computer before Bonnie can snap something back at her - she’d always been more sensitive about how famous Elena actually is - and grabs her room key, throwing a sweater on over her pyjama pants and tank. She halts slightly at the mirror beside the door, brushing her hair with her fingers, but it’s a lost cause. She’s been working in a hotel room for hours, and it shows.

Hopefully, she thinks as she jogged out the door, taking the stairs two at a time, the photographers would realize her face wasn’t going to sell any papers.

 

Stefan is only about six drinks deep when she finds him, sober enough to fake being sober, if he really has to. And he’s Stefan, so even not-sober he’s sweet and thoughtful, and normally it would be the easiest thing in the world to just tuck her arm through his and lead him upstairs to the nice safe hotel room where no one will bother him while he broods and drowns his sorrows for the night. But that only works if Stefan is alone, and tonight he’s the opposite of that, which is complicating Caroline’s plans, ever so slightly.

“I was wondering when we’d next meet, love.”

Caroline hates that her first thought upon hearing his accent is regret over her choice of outfit. Klaus Mikaelsson is a jerk who doesn’t deserve an iota of effort from her.

Still, he strikes a sharp figure, leaning against the bar in a black henley and jeans that probably cost more than her entire closet combined. And for a brief moment she wishes she was at least wearing cute pyjama pants, and not the ones with pink bunnies on them.

“I wasn’t wondering about you at all.” She lies, sliding around him to insert herself beside Stefan, leaning into him against the bar, “We should go upstairs Stefan, there’s paparazzi on the way, and I know you don’t want to give them any material.”

Stefan’s eyes are glassy when he finally looks up at her, and Caroline feels a bubble of panic forming in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she was wrong about how much he had to drink. And she’s too small to carry him to the elevator, if he’s this far gone.

“Relax sweetheart, we were just on our way out.” Klaus volunteers. 

“Excuse me? We?”

“It’s fine Caroline, he’s a friend. Of sorts.” Stefan mutters.

“Of sorts.” Klaus agrees, his grin growing as Stefan’s frown deepens. He reaches over Caroline to steal Stefan’s drink, downing the last of the scotch in one smooth swallow. her mind is turning in circles, trying to catch up.

“I’m sorry, you know each other?”

“Did you think I came all this way just to find you, love?”

She resists the urge to slap him. Instead, she snatches the empty glass he’s still playing with from his hand and sets it down on the bar. Hard.

“As I said, I wasn’t thinking about you at all. Stefan we should go upstairs, I’m serious.”

“As am I. Our car should be here any moment.” Klaus loops an arm through Stefan’s, supporting the other man’s weight as he wobbles against him. “You’re welcome to join us,” he offers, helping Stefan off the bar stool.

“Join you?”

By the time her brain catches up, Klaus has slapped a large hundred pound note on the bar, and is steering Stefan towards the exit. Caroline jogs to catch up.

“You can’t just leave!” She struggles not to raise her voice, pushing down the shrill, high maintenance Caroline she’d left behind in high school. Grown up Caroline is calm and collected. A fucking adult.

Klaus is seriously testing that calm.

“Why not? Stefan, do you want to leave?”

Stefan looks a tad less wobbly now, breathing in the fresh air wafting through the lobby from outdoors. He gives Caroline a guilty shrug. 

“I’m not filming anything till Monday.” He says.

“That’s not the point.” She turns to Klaus, fighting the urge to wave a finger in his face, “That’s not the point! There’s been a scandal. The studio wants us to lay low in a controlled environment. Preferably the hotel, not… doing whatever crazy thing you have planned.”

“Crazy? I’m insulted love.”

“Stop calling me that!” That comes out a tad shrill. Caroline bites her lip. It’s been a very long day - series of days, actually - and her inner control freak is coming out.

“Look,” she says, lowering her voice, “We need to get Stefan upstairs. He’s just been through some serious emotional stuff, and there are paparazzi who would love to take advantage of that to make a few bucks. You get that, right?”

“Of course I do.” Klaus’s voice drops, soft and serious for the first time tonight. “He called me, Caroline. Only desperate people do that.” He gives her a wry little half smile before she can respond. “I’m going to get him away for a bit, somewhere he can process all this away from the public eye, whether you and your studio like it or not.”

Caroline concentrates on being insulted.

“It’s not my studio.”

“No? You seem quite intent on doing their bidding.”

“I’m Elena’s assistant. It’s my job to…” she’s not sure exactly. To make sure Elena has a career tomorrow morning? That Stefan doesn’t want to kill her, or Damon? She hopes her job doesn’t extend to protecting Damon now, that might be too much, even for Caroline.

“It’s just my job.” She finishes, lamely. “It’s my job to help.”

Klaus grins at that, all glittering eyes and too many teeth in his smile.

“Well then,” he says, “You really ought to come with us.”

A black SUV pulls up the drive just then, headlights bathing them in a golden glow, as Klaus holds out a hand. “It’s a small plane this time,” he says, smirk returning, “No first class cabin, I promise.”

It’s more of a challenge than an offer, and Caroline’s never been good at backing down from those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far!
> 
> I always liked how Stefan and Caroline always seemed to pick each other up whenever they were at their lowest points, so that dynamic will play through this fic a lot as they become closer. 
> 
> What's even more fun, you ask? Adding Klaus to the mix and throwing into the middle of nowhere in the next chapter...


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The muscles in the back of Stefan’s neck tense up, his shoulders all but twitching with the effort it’s taking not to throw a something. A glass, the table, a punch. Klaus has seen it all.
> 
>  
> 
> Caroline can't get cell service in the middle-of-nowhere Spain. Unfortunately, Klaus has bigger problems.

Wherever it is Klaus has taken them, Caroline’s phone is not a  fan. She’d sent Bonnie a text when they got to the airport, Klaus’s driver ferrying them onto the runway and parking mere steps from the tiniest private plane she’d ever seen.

Stefan had stumbled inside automatically, and Klaus had stopped to offer her a hand again, like a dare. So she’d breezed past him up the stairs, giving him her best eye roll, and settled into one of the oversized seats, and pulled out her phone.

 _Stefan is following some maniac onto a private plane, and I’m following Stefan._ She’d texted Bonnie, followed by: _Klaus Mikaelsson is the maniac._

And then, because despite how she might secretly enjoy the drama, she followed it up with…

_Text you when we land._

Which she’d fully intended to do, except that they’d landed over an hour ago on a tiny little dirt runway in the middle of nowhere, and her phone had yet to find any bars.

“Relax, love. It’s two in the morning in London, your friend is asleep.”

Caroline spun to find Klaus ambling up the trail behind her, using his own phone as a flashlight. She would bet anything he had decent cell service, even up here.

“I’m trying to call a friend in LA, actually. Do you have reception?”

“LA, even worse.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

“No, it’s not.”

Caroline puts her hands on her hips, and sends him her best glare. Maybe it’s lack of sleep or the fact that she’s already turned him down once, but his shiny famous-person allure has worn off. There’s something about this man that is bringing out her bitchy side, the one her friends always rolled their eyes at in high school. Even in the dark, she doesn’t miss the way the edge of his lips twitch towards a smirk when she glares at him.

“Do you think this is funny?”

“Not at all, love.”

She resists the urge to shove him, to see if famous film actors roll down muddy hillsides the same way normal people do. Surely gravity must apply to him in equally embarrassing measures.

He doesn’t give her the opportunity though, coming up to stand behind her, turning her shoulders so she’s facing out over the hillside herself. It’s dark out, mountains and what she thinks might be vineyards painted deep indigos and greys. In the morning, there will probably be a beautiful view. At the moment, it’s just a reminder of how crazy she’s been, getting on a plane in her pyjamas going who-knows-where with two men she barely knows.

And the one she does know, sort of, is not the one currently pulling her useless phone from her hand.

“I’ll make you a deal, Caroline,” he says as she spins back towards him, “You turn this off and relax for the night. Come up here tomorrow morning, allow me show you the view the way it’s supposed to be seen. And then I’ll give you access to the very secret wifi password and you can use it to call whoever you like.”

Caroline thinks about it for a second. Relaxing doesn’t sound like a terrible idea - it’s been a long day, and he’s right, no one in London is going to be checking their emails until morning.

On the other hand, she still doesn’t know exactly where she is, or what mischief Klaus might have planned for Stefan. She snatches the phone back, eliciting another one of those smirks from him.

“How do I know Stefan is safe with you?”

“You’re very loyal, for an assistant.”

Caroline feels her hackles rise at that, “I’m Elena’s friend. Stefan’s too.”

“That may be, love.” He holds up a hand before she can cut him off, “but so am I, truly. Can you trust me, for one night?”

“Where is he right now?” She’d been so busy trying to get cell service, she hadn’t even bothered to check.

“The hotel bar, I believe. Don’t worry, we’re the only guests. The owner is a friend of mine.”

“And you’re not going to let him leave, or do anything incredibly stupid?”

“At this point, I think he just wants to talk gibberish about your dear friend Elena, and then sleep. But no, I promise I won’t let him do anything incredibly stupid.” He covered his heart with his hand, eyes twinkling, “you have my word, Caroline. On whatever’s left of my heart.”

“Fine.”

 

 

Klaus watches Caroline find her way back down the hill in the dark. His natural inclination had been to offer to walk her back to her room, but from the way she’d snapped at him, he assumed it would have been an unwelcome gesture.

From the top of the hill he can watch the light of her cellphone guiding her down to the villa they’re staying in. The path is narrow, but paved with smooth white gravel that leads directly to the doors. Climbing up here in the dark had been daring, but not especially dangerous.

She trips a little, jumping when she reaches the doors, but vanishes inside unscathed.

If she’d hiked just a bit further up, she’d have found herself in cell phone range. He’ll take her up there tomorrow. Marcel had come back with very little information about Elena’s assistant - a few social media profiles he could have found himself with a simple google search, some information on schools. She had half a business degree, with an art history major, which peaked his interest.

He’d thought about showing up on set under the guise of visiting Stefan a few times. But Marcel had also told him that pretty little Caroline had grown up with Elena Gilbert and stayed close most of their lives. That would be a difficult bond to break, if he decided to pull the girl off _Mystic_ and into his orbit. It could be messy, and despite their history, he didn’t feel like burning all his bridges to Stefan just yet.

And then Bekah had called, to tell him that her ex boyfriend was leaving messages on her phone about another woman. She knew Klaus was rehearsing for a play nearby, would he mind stopping by and checking on her ex for her?

He had a dark side, their Stefan. Klaus had known from the second he walked into the hotel bar that getting out of the city was the best option. Stefan needed to rant and rave and indulge, away from prying eyes. Klaus was being a good friend - of sorts - secreting him away in the middle of the night.

And then Caroline had gotten on the plane with them, which was a pleasant, if unexpected surprise. Klaus couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining her face tomorrow morning when she sees the magnificent view below him now.

Maybe he’ll get a second chance after all.

 

 

“Where are we, exactly?”

“South of Spain. You remember.”

Stefan glares at him from across the table. He’s settled up in the _Bibliotecha_ , the private bar at the top of the hotel. Large glass windows line all four walls, the space between them filled by well stocked bookshelves, with reading material in multiple languages. One of Klaus’s favourites, a little red leather-bound biography of Picasso, is hidden somewhere in their depths. But at the moment he has a more important matter deal with.

Stefan is stretched out on a deep brown leather couch, emptying a large glass of very expensive wine. Empty bottles line the table between them. Klaus, ever the enabler, drops onto the couch across from him and passes the next bottle over, expertly pulling the cork and tossing it over his shoulder. Stefan drinks directly from the bottle, then sets it down on the glass table between them, leaving a ring.

“I remember this bar.” He says, finally, “just forgot the name of the… wine place.”

“Winery. Marques de Riscal. Renowned for it’s inventive architecture. The metal arches outside imitate the way a grape vine grows and moves in the wind.”

He gestures out the window, where the underside of one of the arches is visible, lit from strategically placed lights below. Stefan’s eyes follow the movement. He blinks slowly, his mind struggling through it’s haze.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “A vine among vines, you used to call it. I remember now.” He grins at Klaus, teeth stained red, and suddenly vicious, “we used to come here with Rebekah.”

“Another of your lady loves, yes.”

“Your sister.”

“So I’m told.”

Stefan groans, head falling back against the couch as he takes a long swallow from the bottle. “Siblings,” he sighs, “Fuck ‘em.”

“Is that why you called me? To complain about family?”

“Didn’t call you. Called Rebekah.”

“Same thing.” Klaus plucks the bottle from his hand, taking a drink of his own, as Stefan eyes him, warily.

“She slept with Damon.”

“Rebekah?”

“Not Rebekah. You know who.”

“Ah, your little TV girlfriend. The soap opera actress.”

“Don’t call her that.” He sits up, hands clenched into fists, and Klaus feels his body tense ever so slightly. This is the Stefan he remembers, coiled tight as a spring.

“What should I call her then?” He sits back, taking a sip from his own glass, the image of ease but ready to duck away at any second. “Your girlfriend? Damon’s girlfriend? Or is it just a fling, between them?”

The bottle misses his head by an inch, smashing into a thousand pieces against the white wall, and splattering them both in purple-red droplets. Klaus grins, all teeth.

“That’s the Ripper I remember. Full of rage and covered in blood.”

“Fuck you and your poetic bullshit.” 

Five years ago Stefan would have lunged at him, but now he just drops his head to his hands.

“Fuck,” Klaus hears him whisper, “fuck it.”

A good man would cart him off to bed now, but that’s never what Klaus has been to Stefan. So he simply walks through the broken glass, enjoying the way it crumbles under the soles of his shoes (Klaus will be paying to replace the floor anyway, at this point. Why bother to preserve it?). He settles himself next to Stefan on the couch and holds out their current bottle, half full.

Stefan barely looks up. Klaus waves it in his face, tempting.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft. There are so many things left to smash. You can even take a swing at me, if you like. My face is very well-insured.” When that fails to get a reaction, he tries another angle, “A good black eye would give the paparazzi something else to talk about. Right now all they can seem to write is fluff pieces predicting exactly how long Damon can keep that sweet Elena of yours entertained. I hear they haven’t left her hotel room since he arrived.”

The muscles in the back of Stefan’s neck tense up, his shoulders all but twitching with the effort it’s taking not to throw a something. A glass, the table, a punch. Klaus has seen it all.

“Maybe I’ll give them some pointers, next time we run into each other in LA. Rumour is he’s building a house there, nice place for a family.” Klaus is angling the knife right between Stefan’s ribs, and the other man finally snaps, ripping the bottle from his hands.

Klaus tenses for the blow, but it doesn’t come.

Instead Stefan tilts the bottle to his mouth, swallowing hard, then drops it to the table. Empty.

“I’m going to bed.” He says as he stands, managing a half-hearted effort at staying upright. Klaus lets him get a head start, before tailing him quietly back to the room, and watching the door close safely behind him.

 

 

Out of respect for privacy, Klaus had made sure Caroline had a room close to the main hotel, while secluding himself and Stefan in two rooms at the furthest end of the premium wing. They share a wall by design, and Klaus finds himself sitting on his bed with his laptop open, leaning against it and waiting for any sort of sound.

A message pops up, from his sister, predictably.

_How is he?_

_Angry. But not violent. Practically civil at the hotel. Only threw one bottle since we got here. I needled to see if I could get a reaction, and all he did was go to bed._

_You’re lying._

_You have so little faith in me? You’re the one who sent me on this fools errand._

Three little dots pop up, to indicated Rebekah is typing, then re-typing. Finally, the messenger app goes silent, and his phone rings. He picks up, irritated.

“That’s not what I meant,” Rebekah says from the other side, “and I sent you to check in on him in London, not steal him away on some bro-mantic getaway to Spain.”

If Rebekah is this comfortable using the word bro-mantic, she’s been spending too much time in the states. Klaus points this out, and can all but hear her rolling her eyes from across the Atlantic. They bicker back and forth for few minutes, enjoying the distraction, before Rebekah finally breaks.

“He said he was going to anger management, after we broke up,” She says “maybe it worked.”

“Maybe he just didn’t love this girl as much as he loved you.”

“That’s not true. I’ve seen pictures of them together,” Klaus isn’t imagining it, when her voice turns wistful, “we never got a chance to get to that place.”

“You were young, Bekah.”

“That’s not why, Nick. And you know it.”

Klaus runs a hand through his hair. Remorse is an emotion he rarely feels these days, but what happened between Rebekah and Stefan is one of his few exceptions.

“I’ll take care of him,” he says. Because what else is there?

“Fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She hangs up before he can say goodnight, and Klaus drops the phone to the bed. Stefan is silent on the other side of the wall, safe from harm. A few hours from now Klaus will slip into his room and check for damage - broken lamps or overturned chairs. Make sure the medicine cabinet is intact and the glass beside the bed is filled with water and nothing else. And then, just before the sun rises, once he knows all is well, he’ll go back to his own room, shut the door, and allow himself to sleep.

For now, he simply closes his eyes and prepares for the last few hours of a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Klaus is still kind of a dick, but one that cares? Sort of? Don't worry, lots of fluff next chapter!
> 
> How interested are you guys in this Rebekah/Stefan angle?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, an early morning stroll through a vineyard in the south of Spain with a near shirtless Klaus Mikaelson may sound a lot like one of her more romantic teenage daydreams, but that had been before she had found out Klaus Mikaelsson was so… Klaus.
> 
>  
> 
> This one's just fluff.

Caroline wakes late from the best sleep she’s ever had. The room Klaus checked her into is larger than her studio apartment in LA, with high ceilings and the most heavenly soft bed she’s ever slept in. The furniture is carefully curated mix of sleek modern and heavy antiques, that make it impossible to place exactly where she is.

After a moment’s panic - she never, ever, ever sleeps through her alarm - Caroline rolls out of bed and pads barefoot over the soft carpet to pull open the heavy red drapes to reveal… oh.

Oh.

The soft intake of breath would be embarrassing, were the landscape outside not literally gasp-worthy. She’s looking out over a vineyard that seems to be half garden, vines running in even rows dotted with wild poppies and deep red roses, surrounded by a border of bright yellow bushes and tiny white flowers she can only assume are wild roses.

She seems to be in a room at the every end of the villa, which is covered in ivy from every direction she can see. A set of sandstone stairs that she remembers climbing last night, and what must have been the hill Klaus found her prowling for wifi on.

Klaus. Shit.

She immediately checks her phone, despite knowing that it won’t have magically connected to wifi while she was asleep. A quick pace around the room confirms that there is no reception hiding in corners, and that it’s after ten o’clock.

Not only has she been off the grid for over nine hours, she’s slept in.

She catches a glimpse of herself in a hanging mirror. Great. She’s been off the grid for over nine hours, she’s slept in, and she’s still in her pink bunny pyjamas.

“Shit. Shit shit shit.”

The bathroom, similar to the rest of the suite, is absolutely huge and overly indulgent, with walls covered in grey and silver marble and mirrors that soar to the ceiling far above her head. But what catches her attention most is the pale yellow sundress hanging in the closet. A quick inspection reveals that it’s incredibly soft to the touch, and exactly her size.

“Creepy as fuck, Klaus.” But still better than wearing clothes she’s slept and flown on a plane in. She changes as quick as she can and pins her hair at the back of her neck. A glance in the mirror confirms that she looks relaxed, but professional. The sundress is loose, flattering without being clingy, and she can actually move in it. She hates to admit it, but Klaus might actually have taste.

She doesn’t dwell on that too long, instead scooping up her phone and tossing her purse over her shoulder. She’s got a mission.

 

 

Finding her way down the path is a good deal easier in the daytime, and Caroline keeps an eye out for Klaus as she makes her way towards the grape vines. They hadn’t agreed on a time last night, which is worrying. She’s not about to spend all day waiting around for some movie star to give her the wifi code.

Honestly, she could probably wrangle it out of the front desk concierge, if she really wanted to. That, and Stefan’s room number. She needs to check and make sure he’s okay.

She’s distracted from her worry as she turns a corner to discover yet another beautiful surprise. Nestled between the ivy walls of the villa and the vineyard is a shimmering blue pool, lined with intricate tile. On instinct she slides open the camera feature on her phone. When all this is over she’s going to make Bonnie come back here with her for a girl’s weekend (Elena can foot the bill, she owes them).

“See something you like, love?”

She spins at the sound of the now-familiar accent, to find herself face to face with Klaus. A very shirtless, very wet Klaus.

He grins at her, dripping, as she slowly lowers her cell.

“What? You don’t want a photo?”

Caroline tucks the phone in her purse, certain her cheeks are turning bright red right now. That only makes Klaus grin more, grabbing a towel and running it over his hair. It looks soft, like it curls naturally as it dries, and for a moment Caroline is irrationally jealous of a piece of terrycloth.

“Cat got your tongue this morning love?”

“No.” And then, because he seems utterly content to watch her struggle to form a sentence, she snaps “You said you’d give me the wifi password.”

“I believe we agreed on a hike first.”

“Klaus! I’ve been gone since last night, I need to at least check my email. Elena is holed up who knows where with… well I just need to be able to check on her. And Bonnie! And, you know, my bosses.”

“I was under the impression Elena was your boss.”

Caroline wants to toss him back into the pool. She crosses her arms, and concentrates on not looking at anything below Klaus’s chin.

“I rested, and I turned off my phone, and I stayed out of your way with Stefan. You promised.”

“On what’s left of my heart, yes.” He sighs, wrapping the towel around his shoulders and holds out a hand for her phone. She hands it over and he types something, so that when it’s returned she has full bars and wifi.

The device immediately begins to beep and ping and vibrate, as ten hours of emails, messages, and missed calls flow in. The speed is dizzying.

“Will you at least sit and have breakfast, while you get caught up?” Klaus asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Is there coffee?”

“There is excellent coffee.” He says, tossing the towel over a deck chair in exchange for a white linen shirt that does nothing to hide his form. “In fact, I was just craving a cup myself. I’ll show you the way.”

 

 

“Caroline, oh my god. What happened? Last I heard, you were on a plane with Klaus Mikaelsson, and then you stopped texting!”

“I know, I’m sorry. We went out of cell range, but I’m fine, Stefan’s fine, it’s all fine.”

“Where are you now?”

Caroline looks to Klaus, walking a ways ahead of her. She hadn’t been able to resist calling Bonnie on their way to breakfast, and the actor is convincingly pretending not to eavesdrop on her call. She presses a hand over the phone, irritated.

“Oh stop it Klaus, tell me where we are.”

“South of Spain, love,” he says, plucking a grape from the vine and popping it in his mouth.

She frowns at him, “I told you not to call me that.” And then, back to Bonnie, “Some fancy hotel in the south of Spain, apparently.”

“Wait… is he there? Are you with Klaus right now?”

Klaus is definitely eavesdropping, eyebrows rising higher and higher as he collects a handful of grapes. Sure, an early morning stroll through a vineyard in the south of Spain with a near shirtless Klaus Mikaelson may sound a lot like one of her more romantic teenage daydreams, but that had been before she had found out Klaus Mikaelsson was so… Klaus.

“Caroline! Tell me what’s happening with Klaus!”

“Nothing. Nothing is happening with Klaus.” She’s turning pink now, and Klaus is definitely grinning. “You tell me what’s happening with Elena.”

That gets an eye roll from her guide, and Klaus turns his back, moving on ahead of her along the path. Caroline sticks her tongue out at his retreating form, before turning her attention back to the phone.

“Elena’s fine,” Bonnie says, “We talked on the phone a couple hours ago. I’m at the airport right now actually, I should be at Heathrow this afternoon, so I can help handle everything on the ground. The paparazzi are still hunting for photos, so I convinced her to stay in her hotel room till I arrive.”

“That’s not so bad,” definitely not as bad as Caroline had expected.

“No, I mean, Damon’s with her. But since no one really knows where you guys are, the paps are mostly hunting for Stefan and making up rumours.”

“What’s the next step?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that.”

She can practically hear Bonnie’s brain kicking into gear on the other side of the line, and Caroline takes a deep breath. Time to get to work.

 

They talk for a few more minutes with Bonnie outlining the basic strategy - keep Stefan and Elena away from each other and cameras they can’t control. The studio will arrange and release statements for both of them, spin the story whichever way causes the least damage, and then get back to business as usual.

Bonnie tells her she’s bringing in back up, so someone will have an eye on Elena until Caroline gets back. Which means that at the moment, Caroline’s biggest job is making sure Stefan gets on a plane back to London in time to film Monday morning. 

It also means it’s not really her job to call and check on Elena, at this point. She knows from Bonnie that the other girl is okay, and that it’s all under control. But despite the dozens of new unread messages flooding her phone, not a single one is from her friend.

And they are friends. Before and after fame and employment came into the picture, she and Elena were friends. It was normal that she’d want to call. And normal that she’d feel a ping of worry in her gut when the call goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey Elena. I’m with… actually it doesn’t matter. I’m going to be away from the hotel for a bit, but Bonnie’s on her way to you with backup. Which you know, since you’ve talked to her. But I just wanted to let you know that everything is fine with me, and you can still call if you need anything. If you need someone.” She forces a cheery tone, pushing thoughts of Damon out of her mind, “anyway! We haven’t talked since yesterday - call me and tell me you’re okay!”

She doesn’t realize she’s been fake smiling until she hangs up, turning her ringer all the way up as she slides the phone into her pocket. Klaus has wandered on ahead, waiting for her up at the top of the ridge. If memory serves her, this is where he found her wandering around the night before.

“Now you can see the view properly,” he says as she joins him, confirming her suspicions, “what do you think?”

They round the ridge, and for the second time in one day, Caroline finds herself gasping at what she sees in front of her. She’d assumed the building she’d been staying in was the main hotel, but she was wrong. Below them was the most beautiful piece of architecture she’d ever seen.

The hotel is connected to the villa by a narrow glass walkway, creating a path between the traditional ivy covered villa with what at first appears to be a cloud of twisted metal and stone, as ribbons of purple and gold steel wrap themselves around three stone columns, encasing various rooms ensconced by glass. The whole effect is almost alien, strikingly modern among rows of hundred year old vines, and yet it fit, windswept and organic, as if it had simply grown there.

“The architect modelled the shape after grape vines in the wind, and the colours correspond to the labels on the bottles." Klaus explained, "You’ll have to try it, tonight.”

“It’s stunning.”

Klaus pauses, and it occurs to Caroline that this is the first time they’ve had a conversation that isn’t bordering on an argument since she found him at the bar with Stefan.

“Yes,” he says, eyes lingering on her face, “it is stunning.”

He gestures towards a little patio, hidden along the side of the hill. Bright yellow broom flowers shadow what must be an excellent viewpoint.

“I’ll give you the tour later,” he promises, “but I believe I promised you a coffee first.”

“Lead the way.”

 

 

Stefan is already at the table, halfheartedly poking at a croissant with his fork when they arrive. He looks a bit green, shades pulled down over his eyes, but not as bad as Caroline might have imagined.

“How’s your head?” Klaus asks, clapping him on the shoulder and dropping into a seat, “feeling a tad dehydrated?”

“I’m fine.”

That’s Caroline’s line, and she recognizes the lie as it’s uttered. Clearly Klaus does as well, raising an eyebrow in her direction. She shakes her head at him, hoping the warning will be enough - poking a hungover, broken hearted actor is not how she wants to start her morning.

Klaus shrugs, dropping the grapes he picked into a bowl and offering them to Stefan, who just shakes his head. He holds them out to Caroline, and she takes one, sampling it as she drops into the seat on Stefan’s other side.

They’re delicious, unsurprisingly.

“I was just showing Caroline the view,” Klaus explains, as he fills up a plate, “We’ve agreed it’s much nicer in the daytime.”

She ignores the dig. “It’s beautiful.”

“Have you ever been to Spain before?”

“Only to Barcelona.” She winces. It had been a press tour the very first year of the show, with Elena. Stefan had roomed right across the hall from the two of them, and Elena had disappeared from their room after dinner. Caroline had never asked, but a month later she and Stefan were officially dating.

A glance at Stefan’s face confirms he’s remembering it too. He sighs, lowering the still un-eaten pastry.

“Any word from Elena?”

She must looked worried. He shoots her a wry half-smile, “It’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it,” he says, “She hasn’t called me either.”

Caroline will never say it to Stefan, but that does sound like Elena. Her friend is the most loving and loyal person she knows, but she’s never been good at breakups. Especially when she has a rebound guy to distract her.

“I’m sorry,” she says instead.

He shrugs, a little awkward. His hair is messy, and there are bags under his eyes that suggest he didn’t sleep much.

“It’s fine.” He says, and then “I mean, it’s not fine… it sucks. But I should have seen it coming, probably. She and Damon always had a connection.”

“And Damon likes to take things that aren’t his.” Klaus adds, leaning over the table to pour Caroline a cup of dark coffee. “Do you take milk, love?”

“A little. And Elena is not a _thing_.”

“Of course not. But I can’t say what she is, in such polite company.”

Caroline bites her lip, holding back, while Stefan simply rolls his eyes as if to apologize, “Klaus is the definition of a biased opinion.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Caroline takes the coffee he slides across the table to her without comment. Her instincts are screaming at her to stand up for her friend… Stefan can be pissed all he likes, but what does Klaus know? And yet another very small part of her is starting to get annoyed with Elena. Caroline’s been gone for hours now, surely her friend’s checked her phone once since then?

“Fine, I haven’t heard from her,” Caroline admits, “but I have heard from her agent. And the studio. And your agent, since you’re not picking up his calls and somehow word’s gotten out that I’m hiding out with the two of you, thanks for that.”

Klaus’s lips quirk up at that, but Caroline ignores him.

“They’re all worried, but there’s nothing in your contract that says you can’t take a weekend away. As long as you don’t give any interviews, or say anything terrible about Elena online, you’re fine. And you need to show up for filming on Monday!” 

She aims that last bit at Klaus, who simply salutes her with his coffee cup, as Stefan runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Thanks Caroline,” he says finally, “don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“And until then, this will be a press free zone.” Klaus declares, spearing a piece of melon with just a tad too much enjoyment, “but what I’d like to know is how Miss Gilbert and our least favourite Salvatore have gotten around _her_ contract? Snogging the man on every public platform in London certainly doesn’t count as saying nice things about Stefan here, does it?”

For the second time this morning, Caroline feels her cheeks burn bright red, her eyes immediately flying to Stefan. But the other man is as collected as he can be, barely acknowledging the comment.

“Ignore him Caroline,” he says over a sip of coffee, “Klaus lives to elicit a reaction.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.”

Klaus smirks, watching them both with raised eyebrows. His eyes linger on Stefan, and Caroline wonders briefly if this was a test, to see how well Stefan can handle it all. She brushes the thought away. Klaus is an actor, but he’s hardly the subtle type.

“Well then,” their host says, “I’m going to see about another course. You two want anything?”

They shake their heads, and then Klaus is gone, carting empty glasses back towards the hotel. Caroline watches him, curiously, before turning back to Stefan. He looks tired, but better than she’d have expected after last night. And she had gone to bed earlier than both of them.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, but being here has helped. Who knows what would have happened if I stayed back at the hotel. Damon and probably would have torn each other’s heads off by now.”

“Or I would have done my job, and locked you in your hotel room with the mini bar, far from your brother and the paparazzi.”

“That’s not your job, and you know it.”

The look Stefan shoots her is fond, if a little patronizing. Caroline finds herself crossing her arms, stubborn. She could have saved him, and would have, if Klaus hadn’t gotten in the way.

“Well, Klaus isn’t exactly the saviour I’d have chosen for you.”

“He’s a lot.”

“I’ll say.”

Stefan chuckles, then continues where he left off. “I mean, he’s a lot more than he seems. He can handle my… darker side.” He shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable, “look, I’ve got some anger issues. To say the least. Klaus… has been through it before with me, he knows how pull me off the ledge, when necessary.”

He looks awkward, like he’s worried he’s said too much, and Caroline is suddenly reminded of sitting behind the bleachers with little Jeremy Gilbert, tracing the scars on his arms.

She reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, if this helps, we’ll stick around. And I’ll make sure you and Elena have as little interaction as possible once we get back to filming.”

“Thanks Caroline.”

They sit for a minute in silence, sipping the last of the coffee. When Caroline puts her empty cup on the table, she looks up to find Stefan is staring at her, thinking.

That’s never a good look on creative types. They think too much and too little, all at once.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… if I doubled your salary, would you consider switching loyalties?”

She smiles, and fights the urge to brush a bit of hair off his forehead. She’s always been into lost causes, and if the last twenty four hours have taught her anything, it’s that Stefan may be the ultimate broken bird.

“I’m taken, sorry.”

“Worth a shot. We’ll have to be friends instead.”

That sparks something deep and warm in her stomach, and Caroline can’t help but hold back a smile.

“Yeah, we can be friends.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have visited this vineyard, and I refuse to stop writing fluff about it. That and shirtless Klaus. But some actual plot occurs in the next chapter, promise.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop it,” she says, swatting at his hand as he reaches up to brush some imaginary hair from her face, “stop trying to charm me, or whatever it is you’re doing here.”
> 
> “You think I’m charming?”

Caroline checks her messages three more times and Stefan drinks two more mimosas before Klaus returns and declares that they’re going into town.

“So you can drink in a different environment,” he tells Stefan, voice dripping sarcasm, “it’ll be good for you.”

It’s not Caroline’s breakup style - when Tyler left she and Bonnie and Elena had locked themselves in their apartment for a full weekend with nothing but ice-cream and old Gilmore Girls reruns - but it seems to work for Stefan. He pulls on a baseball cap and sunscreen and follows Klaus without question, and so Caroline checks her phone one last time and does the same.

 

“Feeling abandoned, love?” Klaus asks her, catching her looking down at her phone, tucked into the shade of one of the little tourist shops. She’d told Stefan she was going to look for a hat when she ducked inside, immediately opening her messages when she was out of sight.

Bonnie has texted to say she’s boarding the plane. Elena is still silent.

“Quite the opposite,” she snaps, using her phone to capture a photo of some ornamental pomegranates, as though that was her intention all along, “You just can’t seem to leave me alone.”

Klaus doesn’t call her on the obvious cover up, just smiles and holds the door open as they exit into the sun together. It’s hot. Maybe she should have actually bought a hat.

“It’s one of my few flaws,” he tells her, “when I see something I want, I can’t let it go until it’s mine.”

“So I’m an _it_ to you, how flattering.”

“I’m not sure what you are yet, that’s what’s so appealing.”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Do you like ridiculous?”

He’s getting irritating now. Caroline stops and crosses her arms. He stops with her, a touch too close, and suddenly Caroline has to tilt her chin up, ever so slightly, to see his face.

There’s a reason this face is plastered on screens and billboards and bedroom walls across the globe. And the twinkling of amusement in his eyes says he knows it. Knows that she’s noticed.

“Stop it,” she says, swatting at his hand as he reaches up to brush some imaginary hair from her face, “stop trying to charm me, or whatever it is you’re doing here.”

He takes a step back immediately, giving her breathing room. But if anything the look of amusement only grows.

“You think I’m charming?”

“Klaus!”

“It’s a genuine question, love.”

She huffs, exasperated, runs a hand through her hair. Now there really are ringlets falling loose, and she has nothing to pin them back with. She feels a wave of frustration. It’s hot out, and sticky, and she should not be having this conversation on a quaint little street with a movie star in Spain of all places. Not while she’s sweating, at least.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” She says finally, “you’re charming me one minute, and then the next you’re ignoring me. Or bullying Stefan.”

She looks around, feeling a rising bubble of panic. “Wait, where is Stefan?”

“Buying you a hat.”

“What?”

“We both knew you were just wandering off to check your phone, and he thought you might need one.”

“What?”

“A hat. Are you alright?”

Caroline laughs, panic turning abruptly to relief as Klaus points across the square to where Stefan hides behind his baseball cap and shades, examining a rack of wide brimmed sun hats. Klaus is watching her like she’s going insane, unable to explain it around her sudden giggle fit.

It’s absurd. The whole situation is absolutely absurd.

She finally stops laughing, waving a hand over her face. Klaus looks so puzzled at her outburst that he’s forgotten the rest of their confusing conversation. Caroline decides to push all those worrying thoughts away, compartmentalize them for another day. She’s always been very good at that.

“I’m fine,” she says, “let’s go help him out.”

  

By the time they get to him Stefan has picked out the least offensive looking of the hats, wide brimmed with a thin leather strap that means she can wear it over her shoulders instead of carrying it around like a clutch. He plops it on her head as they approach, nodding his approval.

“It’s very you.”

Caroline peeks in the tiny mirror over the shop door, “it’s really not.”

“A relaxed, vacation version of you.”

“Not even that.”

It’s cheap material, the kind that will fall apart after a week, overpriced and ill-fitting. The kind of thing Caroline wouldn’t be caught dead in most days. She loves it.

She kisses Stefan’s cheek when he pays the vendor too much for it, and winds an arm through his elbow. He’s doing well. This friends thing could be lovely, if they can make it last.

“Okay,” Klaus says, looking the two of them over, suspicious, “where next?”

“Food.” Stefan suggests immediately, in his driest tone. Caroline holds back another giggle.

“I was going to suggest a museum, you tasteless bastard.”

“No, I want food.”

“Me too,” Caroline agrees, “food.”

Klaus rolls his eyes, outnumbered. “Fine,” he says, “let’s go.”

 

 There’s a cafe across the square, with wide umbrellas that shade the tables from the worst of the sun. It’s midday in June, and the heat of the day has scared most of the tourists back into their hotels for a few hours. Klaus orders a round of cervesas for the table, and Stefan adds a shot of petrone to his.

“Do we need to talk about your drinking, mate?”

“Not today.” Stefan shoots the liquor back, then drains half his beer, as if daring the two of them to comment any further. But it’s the first time he’s lashed out today, so Klaus lets it go, turning back to the menu propped up in front of him.

“Some _Jambon_ and Croquettes?” he suggests, eyes gliding over the list of classic tapas. 

Next to him Caroline is glaring at her Spanish menu. Apparently the high school classes she’d insisted she remembered are failing her.

“It’s ham and fried cheese,” he explains, pointing out the words, “though translation hardly does the food justice.”

“I can read it,” she lies. He waits a beat, before she lowers the menu. “Fine, that sounds good.”

“Excellent. Stefan?”

“Olives, and another _cervesa_.”

Klaus nods, waving the waiter over and placing the order. He lets Stefan order another beer, another shot. Caroline looks worried, and he thinks for a second that he could very easily get attached to the way her nose wrinkles when she frowns.

Then he pushes the thought from his head. Stefan is his main concern today, not someone else’s assistant, pretty and clever as she might be. She’d made that clear earlier, swatting his hand away when he’d tried to touch her.

Not many women turned down Klaus Mikaelsson. Definitely not after he’d flown them to a luxury hotel halfway across the continent. Not that he was actively trying to seduce Caroline (at least that’s what he was telling his bruised ego). But if he had been… she was a challenge. And he’d never been good at walking away from those.

“Oh my god, this looks amazing.”

Her voice, full of delight, jolts him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“The food, Klaus.” Stefan says, nodding at the plates the waiter was setting on their table.

It does look good. Thinly sliced prosciutto, drizzled in olive oil. Bowls of bread and bright green olives. A tray of his favourite croquettes - little balls of potatoes, onion, ham, and cheese, deep fried to perfection. As a child, they’d been his comfort food, something he still indulged in whenever he landed a particularly challenging role, or wrapped up a show.

“Go ahead and try one, love.” He offers the plate to Caroline, whose eyes are wide with excitement as she takes the first bite. She moans, obviously impressed, and the sound goes straight to his gut. The girl likes good food. He might just have to keep her.

She opens them and drops the rest of the croquette to her plate.

“Shit,” she says, “you’ve been spotted.”

Klaus and Stefan follow her eyes across the plaza, to where a group of tourists are aiming iPhones in their direction.

“Shit,” Stefan echoes, pulling down his cap and angling slightly away, so they’re shooting at his shoulder rather than his face.

Caroline pulls the shot glasses out of view, and Klaus mirrors the action, stacking the beer glasses on his side of the table. Drawing all criticism from Stefan onto himself - his image is ruthless movie star, he can take it, while squeaky clean Stefan is running a risk even being seen with him.

“What’s the plan?” Stefan mutters. His posture is carefully casual, but the nerves scream through in his voice.

“We need to get you out of here,” Caroline says, automatic, “Klaus?”

“I’d happily be a distraction, but they look a bit young to know my work, love.”

She hums, annoyed but thinking. Stefan sighs, settling deeper in his chair. “No good now,” he says, “they’re coming over.”

For a moment it looks like Caroline will throw herself over him like a shield, and Klaus suddenly finds himself reaching out and wrapping a hand around hers, anchoring her in place.

The look she shoots him is irritated, but before she can move or question the action, they’re surrounded by a crowd of giggling teenage girls.

“Hi!” the bravest one all but squeals straight at Stefan, “We saw you and we just had to say hi! We love Mystic so much!”

“Thank you, it’s a great show.”

Stefan is all smiles, as the girls start to pepper him with questions. If Caroline wasn’t currently bruising his fingers, Klaus might think this is going well.

“Are you finally going to get together? I can’t believe you had to break up before prom! You’re clearly in love!”

“You’re not going to die, are you?”

“What about Elena?”

Stefan winces. Caroline and Klaus notice at the same moment, but it’s Caroline who acts first, jumping to her feet.

“Hey, do you guys want a photo?”

She corrals the now actually-squealing teenagers into a sort of semi-circle around Stefan.

“Okay, say cheese!” She snaps a few options and hands the ringleader her phone back, “thanks for coming over you guys. Enjoy the rest of your trip!” Her tone is chipper and cheery, with the slightest edge. Time to move along.

They do just that, and Klaus watches Stefan’s whole body deflate with relief as the giggling crowd vanishes up a narrow street.

“Nicely done, Caroline.”

“I told you,” she mutters, “it’s my job. We should leave though. Now that he’s been approached, Stefan’s not going to get any peace here.”

She’s right. A few locals are already shooting them looks, trying to figure out exactly who they are. It won’t be long before Klaus is recognized himself.

“I’ll handle the bill,” he says, “you two head back to the villa, I’ll meet you there.”

Caroline takes Stefan’s arm and tosses him a nod of agreement before guiding the other man away to safety.

It’s a simple gesture of approval, nothing more, but it ignites a craving he hadn’t fully realized he had. She’s clever and bright, and her talents are wasted on her friends. Klaus is building an empire, and she will be part of it. Same as Stefan, two knights in his court.

He drains the last of his beer, waving down the cheque as he watches their retreating forms vanish safely into the distance. He’s lost Stefan once before. This time, he’ll play for keeps.

 

“I can’t go back Monday.”

“What?” Caroline spins to face Stefan, trying to hide the shock on her face. He’s at least waited to get back to the hotel to tell her this, his calm facade breaking as soon as they cross through the limestone gates that lead up to the hotel.

Despite the modern design of the main building, most of the grounds are still a working winery, full of vineyards and a series of little limestone storehouses and gardens below the main hotel. Caroline pulls Stefan into one of them, half hidden in a rose grove where tour groups won’t wander by and overhear.

“I’m going to repeat the question,” she says carefully, “since I’m pretty sure you just misspoke…”

“I’m not going back, Caroline.” He cuts her off, “You saw me, I nearly blew it out there with a group of teenagers. How am I going to face a bunch of angry men with cameras?”

He seems fine, a bit agitated, but he’d been calm with those girls. Charming even after they brought up Elena. Caroline pastes on her fakest smile, the reassuring one she uses whenever Elena needs someone to psych her up and tell her she’s fantastic right before a big scene.

“We’ll figure it out,” she promises. “You’ll be fine.”

“No. There won’t be a _we_. Klaus will jet back to who knows where, and you’ll go back to Elena. And Damon…”

He turns, pacing, fists clenched.

“Damon will…” he can’t seem to find the words.

“Stefan, I get it.”

“No you don’t!” he spins on her, eyes blazing, and Caroline jumps back on instinct, heart rate spiking in her chest. He’s tall and loud, and for the first time she sees what he means when he says he has a darkness. He looks like he could rip her head off. Like maybe he wants to.

And then he deflates, suddenly, running his hands through his hair, stepping back and shrinking into the Stefan she knows.

“Shit,” he whispers through his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Caroline waits until her racing pulse has calmed, settling herself on the edge of a nearby fountain. “Sit,” she orders, “breathe. I’m fine.”

He obeys quietly, dipping his fingers in the water, tracing tiny waves and avoiding her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “Thinking about Damon just…” he trails off, and Caroline thinks she might understand how deep this betrayal has cut him, for the first time.

“Damon’s your person, huh.”

“He’s my brother.”

The words hang between them for a moment, and then Stefan fishes his phone from his pocket, handing it over to Caroline. On the screen she can see an article, some Tattler piece on the whole debacle. It’s really just a collection of pictures, snapshots someone has taken from a rooftop, looking down into Damon and Elena’s hotel room. The two of them are curled up on a plush velvet couch.

“They’re clothed. Could be worse.” She forces her voice to be light, teasing. But it doesn’t do any good. Stefan shakes his head, reaching over and scrolling down to the last picture.

Damon has an arm looped around Elena’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes are half-closed, leaning into him.

Caroline fights the sudden urge to curse the man wrapping his arms around her best friend like she’s the most precious creature in the world. Goddamn it Damon. She knows that look all too well.

Elena is in love with him.

“Yeah,” Stefan says, taking the phone back, “she never looked at me like that. I always thought she would, one day. But it was Damon all along.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

He shrugs, tucks the phone back in his pocket.

“We can fix this, Stefan. I know we can.”

“He’s my brother. How do I fix that?” he shakes his head, cutting her off before she can start, “I’m not going back on Monday,” he says, “I can’t just show up and film a scene where I propose to someone who…”

“Someone who cheated on you with your brother. It’s okay, she’s my friend, but we can say it.”

Stefan arches a brow, surprised. “Really? I thought you were the loyal one.”

“I am. Elena is… she’s my person. But she did something shitty, so I’m going to get you through it. I’m team Stefan, all the way. I’m not going to just drop you when we get off the plane.”

The look Stefan shoots her way is wary, with the slightest sliver of hope. Her friend, the broody but harmless Stefan, is back.

“When we get off the plane.” he deadpans.

“When we get off the plane, Sunday night.” Caroline takes a deep breath, “I’m not saying you have to film the scene. But you have to be there, that’s what we agreed with the studio. So… tell me about your process and stuff. Maybe we can find a way to make this work.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we'll have some more familiar faces showing up next chapter, and then back to London. Because as much fun as the sun is, we can't hide in Spain forever (and I know you want to see what happens when Elena and Damon are finally in a room with Stefan again).
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your sister is crazy.”   
> Klaus barely looks up from his sketchbook, “Ah, you met Rebekah.”
> 
> In which the Original Sister makes an appearance, and Klaus finally gets Caroline out on a date. You're welcome.

 

“I told him I was team Stefan,” she tells Bonnie, when the other girl calls to tell her she’s landed at Heathrow, “and I kind of meant it.”

“You’re team Elena,” Bonnie reminds her, “don’t go jumping ship on me. You promised you’d have him back by Monday, with no photos. And now you’re telling me there are photos, and he might not do the scene?”

“He’ll be back, that’s what I promised. And I can be team Elena _and_ team Stefan!”

“You are good at multi-tasking.”

“Exactly.” Caroline sighs, “it benefits both of them to get the scene out of the way.” 

Bonnie hums her agreement, and Caroline hesitates just a moment before asking her next question. 

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“Who?”

“Bonnie Bennet! You know who. Elena. She’s not returning my calls, and I’m getting worried. Stefan showed me a Tattler piece that has photos of Damon and her in their hotel room.”

“She needs to switch rooms.”

“Of course. I emailed the hotel an hour ago,” Caroline pushes back her annoyance, “that’s not the point.”

Bonnie sighs on the other end of the line, “I’ll remind her to call you Caroline. I’m sure she’s just not checking her phone.”

“Well make her check it. I need to know she’s okay.”

They go over strategy for a few more minutes - Caroline is pretty certain she can convince Stefan to shoot the scene Monday if he doesn’t have to interact with Elena off set. And Bonnie thinks she can probably talk the producers into scheduling the rest of the episode so they shoot different days. Most of Stefan’s remaining scenes are with Alaric, and Elena can wrap up hers with April on his days off. They have to pitch it all to the producers, but it’s a good plan. It could work.

By the time they hang up, Caroline is feeling pretty good. She can push the Elena worry to the back of her mind, almost.

“You should produce,” a voice jolts her from her thoughts, and for a moment she thinks it’s Klaus, sneaking up on her agin.

Instead she turns to find a pretty blond girl standing behind her, plucking a drink from the bar. Caroline had thought she’d be alone up on the hotel roof at high noon - no one else was crazy enough to wander out in the heat of the day. 

“Your hat is terrible,” the girl says, coming to lean beside her at the railing, “but you have good instincts, apparently. No wonder my brother likes you.”

“Stefan bought it for me.” She decides to ignore the bit about Klaus, instead using the hint to put together where she’s seen this girl before, “You’re Rebekah Mikaelsson.”

The girl pulls off her sunglasses, tucking them into the front of her plunging white jumpsuit. She’s stunning in person, which is an annoying thing to think about one of Klaus’s relatives, even ones who are considered up and coming supermodels. She gives Caroline a smile, sharp and a tad dangerous, just like her brother.

“You’re not after him, are you? I’d hate to have to toss you off this balcony. Your body would ruin the view.”

“After Stefan?” Caroline’s brain does a scramble to catch up, “no, no I’m not after him.”

Rebekah grins. She looks like a shark, Caroline decides, pretty but with too many sharp edges. You could cut yourself on this girl.

“Good,” she says, “and my brother?”

“I’m not… no. I’m just trying to do my job.”

Rebekah frowns, almost disappointed. “And what is that, exactly?”

Seriously? What is with these Mikaelsson and the questions?

“At the moment,” Caroline hears herself snap, “It’s getting Stefan back to London, since your brother decided to kidnap him.”

“Oh, she has teeth. I can see why he likes you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Rebekah slides her shades on and tips back the last of her drink. White wine at three in the afternoon - only in Spain. “You’ll get there, eventually. He always does. Good luck Caroline. I meant what I said about producing.”

And with that confusing end to their very confusing interaction, Rebekah is gone, leaving Caroline alone with an empty glass and the click-clack sound of her retreating heels over tile.

 

“Your sister is crazy.”

Klaus barely looks up from his sketchbook, “Ah, you met Rebekah.”

Caroline crosses her arms, irritated. She’d gone to find Stefan first, of course, but by the time she’d gotten downstairs, all the concierge could tell her was that Stefan had gotten into a car with a blonde woman a few minutes before. She’d had to hike across the vineyard to find Klaus at the viewpoint where they’d eaten breakfast, working with a tray of charcoal pencils.

“Is this a thing you all do, swooping in and kidnapping Stefan? Is it some sort of family pastime?”

“Stefan _was_ family, for a while,” Klaus meets her eyes over the top of his sketchbook, “hold still.”

She does the exact opposite, storming around the table to reach for the paper, “You better not be drawing me, Klaus Mikaelsson!”

He dodges her grasp, flipping the book closed and tucking it under his arm. She reaches for it again, and he takes a step back, smile growing as he continues to dance out of her way.

“Fine!” she says finally, planting her hands on her hips, “draw all you want, see if I care.”

“I will, thank you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Flirt… charm, whatever,” She feels her cheeks turning pink and does her best to balance the blush with a scowl, “I’m still mad at you for letting your crazy sister run off with Stefan. He had an outburst or something earlier. I don’t think he’s as okay as he seems.”

All the humour falls from Klaus’s face, and he takes a step towards her, eyes dark and serious. His scans her up and down, as if checking for damage.

“Did he hurt you?”

“What? No. I’m fine. He was just a bit… loud. He’s worried about the scene on Monday, he thinks I’ll go back to Elena and you’ll fly off to your next gig without him.”

“If that’s all it is, I’ll stay. I’m about to start rehearsing a play nearby, I can delay it a few days and come to set.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, but being on call would be good. Maybe just check in a few times so he knows he has someone.”

Klaus nods, thoughtful. It’s amazing, the way he can turn on a dime, playful to concerned in an instant. Caroline crosses her arms across her chest, a little nervous. It’s just the two of them now, and his eyes are still dark, heavy with concern. For Stefan, but for her too. He’s really been worried he might have hurt her.

“What happened between you guys?” she blurts out the question before she can stop it. It’s none of her business. But she wants to know.

Klaus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t react otherwise. He thinks for a beat, then shrugs, stepping back from her, casual.

“Stefan and Rebekah dated, as you may have assumed. He spent a good deal of time with our family, when he was quite young. We were close, like brothers almost.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” He straightens, putting the sketchbook back on the table. Caroline wonders what she would find, if she just reached over and flipped it open. Herself? Stefan?

“Have you eaten much Spanish food, Caroline?”

“What?”

“They have incredible tapas here. Little snacks you eat before dinner, since the Spanish love to eat late. You would have had a chance to sample more earlier, if we hadn’t been interrupted. But now that Rebekah’s swept Stefan under her wing, we seem to have some time on our hands.”

“Are you trying to ask me to dinner?”

A grin breaks out across his face, “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Will you do me the honour?”

He’s offering her his hand again. Caroline lets out the tiniest huff of frustration, just to remind him she’s not forgotten she’s angry.

If anything, the smile grows.

She is hungry.

“Fine,” she brushes past him, and he tucks his hands behind his back, the gesture polite, the look in his eyes anything but. “Lead the way.”

 

He takes her to a cafe _,_ driving to a different town this time in one of those anonymous black SUVs and getting out a few blocks away so he can lead her down cobbled streets too narrow for the car to fit through. They come out in a whitewashed courtyard, overlooked by apartments with little wrought iron railings across their windows, the walls dotted with bright red potted geraniums. They drop into wicker chairs and Klaus orders a beer from the young man that jogs outside, pulling pen and paper from the pocket of his crisp white shirt. He comes back with drinks and a basket of bread, as well as menus that Klaus leans over and translates for her before she can ask.

It’s annoying, him having the advantage of a second language. But it’s nice too, having someone look out for her a bit. Caroline is usually the one watching everyone else, making sure Elena and Bonnie and Stefan and the rest are taken care of.

Klaus recommends some plates to share, and she chooses the ones that interest her, settling back and letting him order in rapid Spanish. The teenager serving them has definitely recognized Klaus - word probably spreading from the young tourists that a celebrity is in town - but is polite enough not to say anything.

“Do you get that a lot?” she asks, when he runs off to place their order, shooting curious looks over his shoulder as he goes.

“Get what?”

“You know, people treating you different.”

Normally this is when the actors she knows will sigh deeply and talk about how hard it is, being famous. Caroline understands it - it sucks not being allowed to have an off day in public - but the routine gets old after a while. She’s curious to see how Klaus feels about it.

Klaus thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s useful,” he says finally, “I haven’t waited in a line since I was sixteen.”

“That’s it? You don’t hate being recognized all the time? Feel like a fish in a bowl?”

“There’s a certain power in being recognized,” Klaus shrugs, “you can run from it, or you can use it. My family and I have always known how to use it.” He looks around the courtyard, evaluating, “Yes, I go outside with the knowledge that I’ll likely be photographed. But I taught the paparazzi a long time ago where the line is. I toss them a bone every once in a while, they put my name right where I need it.”

“Seems unfair.”

“What’s the fun in playing fair?” he grins, indulgent, “We indulge a bit, take advantage, yes. But everyone gets what they want, and I never have to worry about things like dinner reservations.”

The tapas arrive, tiny dishes arranged perfectly on brightly coloured plates. Klaus presses a tip into the waiter’s hand and shoots him his brightest movie start smile.

“Thanks, friend.”

The boy turns bright red, all but running back inside. Klaus turns back to her, as Caroline rolls her eyes.

“Show off.”

He offers her a plate, not denying it, “try one of the olives, love. They’re delicious.”

Caroline doubts Klaus’s ambitions are limited to skipping lines and trying new foodie hotspots, but she allows him to change the subject. He’s right about the olives.

“I’d rather talk about you,” Klaus tells her, once they’ve paid and moved on, wandering down another narrow street. The town is built on a hillside, with beautiful sloping streets, and Caroline finds herself using a hand to brace herself against the wall so her flimsy sandals don’t send her flying downwards.

“What about me?”

“Your hopes, your dreams, your future.” He holds out a hand to help her down a steep stairway, and she takes it, eyeing him curiously.

“How many times has that line worked for you?

“More often than you’d think.”

She laughs despite herself. He’s so arrogant, it crosses into charming and back again.

“Give me a chance, Caroline,” he looks at her from under heavy lashes, “you might be surprised.”

He’s still holding her hand. Caroline can feel the heat of him against her, the sun slowly setting over the top of the hill behind them.

“Fine,” she says, deciding not to think too much of it. The cobblestones are still pretty uneven, she needs him for balance, “what do you want to know?”

 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not caught up on The Originals, but I heard it was a bittersweet moment for our fandom tonight. Here's some fluff to take your mind off it...

“Are you sleeping with Klaus Mikaelsson?”

“What?” Caroline checks the time on her cell phone, then rolls over to check the alarm clock on her side table. Both agree, it’s just after four in the morning, way too early for phone calls. Even international ones.

She raises the phone to her ear, irritated.

“Elena, when I said to call me, I didn’t mean in the middle of the night.”

“Are you sleeping with him though? There are pictures all over the web of you two in some little alleyway. I knocked on your door a hundred times, where are you?”

“Spain. I left you a message. A bunch, actually.” Caroline sits up in bed, listens to the long silence on the other end of the line.

“Oh.” Elena finally says, “I meant to listen to those.”

“Well if you had, you’d know I was in Spain. With Stefan, by the way. It’s a long story, but I’m not sleeping with Klaus. I don’t know how those photos got out, I never saw a photographer.”

“You’re usually so good at spotting them,” Elena hums after a moment.

“Really, that’s what you got from that?”

“He’s not your usual type.”

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Fine.”

Caroline falls back onto the bed with a groan. Elena’s not going to bring up the elephant named Damon in the room on her own, and it’s too early to coax anything out of her.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m with Stefan?” She asks, finally.

Elena sighs, and Caroline hears the sound of bare feet padding across the floor. She’s getting out of bed, probably giving Damon some space before they talk about his brother.

“Is he okay?” Her voice is soft for the first time, cutting off whatever icy retort Caroline has lined up. This is always how it goes - Caroline gets bitchy and Elena pulls her back to earth.

“Honestly? I don’t know. He’s better than I expected. Not great.” She sighs, then turns to the question she’s really been wanted to ask, “How are you doing? Why are you up?”

“I’m… I don’t know. Relieved maybe? Everything’s out in the open now, so I was feeling good but, but then I couldn’t sleep. And we have that big proposal scene on monday, so Damon decided to help me…

Caroline cuts her off, “if you say rehearse, I’m going to have to hang up to vomit.”

“Don’t be mean!” Elena giggles over the line. There’s a beat, and then her voice turns quiet. Caroline can imagine the look on her friend’s face, all wide eyes as she toys with the phone in her hands, “I’m nervous,” she says, “Stefan and I, we haven’t talked since… you know.”

“I know.” She could be mean and let Elena stew over this, but even when she’s annoyed with her, Caroline can’t hold a grudge against her best friend.

“Bonnie and I worked out a plan, okay? You do the acting, we’ll handle everything else. You’ll be fine.”

Elena sighs on the other side of the line. Relief.

“Thanks Care, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to go back to sleep now, okay?”

“Okay. Wait, Caroline?”

“Yeah?”

Elena hesitates, as Caroline bites her tongue and resists the urge to just hang up. It’s so early, and all she wants to do is curl up and drift back to sleep for a few more hours.

“Just be careful with Klaus,” her friend says, “He’s in a different league, you know?”

“Thanks Elena.”

She hangs up and tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, before she can say anything else.

 

Caroline wakes up in a cold sweat a few hours later, Elena’s words finally catching up to her.

Pictures. There are pictures of her and Klaus, Klaus Mikaelsson the movie star, cavorting around an idyllic Spanish village.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

She’s been photographed with celebrities before, usually walking in the background of paparazzi shots with Elena or another Mystic cast member. Once she’d even been referenced as a “guest” at a red carpet event, and another time she’d been Alaric’s “Mystery Blonde” when he forgot his cell phone on set and she had to chase him down to return it. She’d learned to never hug anyone remotely famous in public when her mom called her seeing photos of that moment. But even that had been sort of novel, a funny party story about a photo that barely anyone had seen.

This is Klaus Mikaelsson. People would see this. This - in the absurd way Caroline’s life had worked since moving to LA - mattered.

Her mom is going to kill her.

She’s out of bed before she’s even fully conscious, pulling on shoes and scrambling for her cell phone. Takes a deep breath and dials.

“Mom? I can explain.”

Her mom’s voice comes through filtered and grainy, “explain what, honey?”

It’s late over there. Maybe she’s shut her computer down already, or Caroline caught her at the station.

“The photos, mom. Of me and Klaus. They’re not what they look like.”

“Klaus? Who’s Klaus?”

“Klaus Mikaelsson.”

There’s a pause at the other side of the line, and the sound of typing. Caroline hasn’t seen the pictures Elena told her about yet, but she’s sure they’re popping up on her mom’s computer screen.

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” her mom’s voice is concerned, “There’s nothing here.”

 

“Elijah took care of it.” Rebekah tells her, before Caroline can even sit down at the breakfast table. Which is a good thing, since she had no intention of actually sitting. Tossing the plate of croissants in Rebekah’s perfectly sculpted face, maybe.

She settles for a glare, “What does take care of it mean, exactly?”

“It means he paid the photographer an absurd amount of money for the rights to some relatively harmless photos of Nick holding hands with a nobody.” Rebekah snips back at her, “so stop glaring. You look ridiculous.”

“What Bekah means is, you don’t have to worry, love.” Klaus adds, entering and taking a seat beside his sister, “coffee?”

They look like a matching set, all easy grace and sharp smiles. Caroline wants to smack them both.

She sits down on Klaus’s other side instead, plucks a piece of melon and _jambon_ from the tray and takes a bite. She may be annoyed, but she’s hungry too, and this is her last chance at good Spanish food before they get on a plane back to the land of fish and chips.

“Do I want to know how much this all cost?” she asks finally. She knows their brother Elijah is some sort of talent agent, but can’t imagine how expensive buying up photos of Klaus must be.

“I would have paid more,” Klaus says, and then “when you’re linked to me in public Caroline, it’ll be your choice. Not that of some photographer hiding in the shadows.”

“You went on a dinner date Klaus, you’re not engaged.” Rebekah snaps.

Klaus ignores his sister, holding Caroline’s eyes.

He’s serious, she realizes, feeling a tinge of heat in her cheeks. Excitement, but panic too. He wants her. For real and for keeps. And Caroline’s not quite sure if she’s ready for that.

“Thank you.” Is all she says, and Klaus nods, his face expressionless. 

Rebekah rolls her eyes, but Stefan steps into the room then, cutting off any retort she might have prepared. He drops into the seat beside Caroline, reaching for a pastry and ignoring the other girl.

“I’d get that to go mate,” Klaus suggests, “We’ve got a plane to catch.” He turns to his sister, eyes glittering. “Are you joining us, Bekah?”

“Never. London is filthy. I’m off to Paris instead.”

She stretches, languid, then hops up and presses a kiss to Stefan’s cheek, smearing red lipstick across his jaw. “Call me when you’re over her,” she says, and then to Caroline, “Don’t hurt him.”

She stomps out, heels clicking on the marble floor.

Caroline wonders which one she meant, decides not to ask. 

Instead, she dips her linen napkin her water glass and hands it to Stefan, gesturing at his cheek.

“You should wash that off,” she says.

He takes it, scrubbing at his cheek. He still hasn’t said a word. Klaus meets her eyes over his head.

“Shall we?”

 

The plane ride is quiet, for the most part. Stefan slips off with a scotch to lick whatever wounds Rebekah inflicted, and after a while Caroline gets up to check on him, with the excuse of running lines.

Klaus has plenty to occupy himself with. Elijah has sent him a new script to look over, so he contents himself with that until Caroline drops into the seat next him with a huff.

He closes the laptop carefully, watching her.

She looked surprised at his confession earlier. He wonders if she misunderstood, or worse, if she understood and simply didn’t want it. Didn’t want him.

“What were you reading?” she asks, finally.

“My brother sends me scripts to consider,” he hesitates, wondering if it’s safe to tell her, “I have a deal to direct something this summer. I’m looking for the right story.”

“You would be good at that.”

He blinks. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted her to think that, until she said the words. It strikes him that they’ll land at Heathrow in under an hour, and she could turn him down, simply walk out of his life forever. The possibility sends a chill up his spine, and a rush of shame. Somehow he’s gone from wanting this woman to needing her.

She worries her lip, hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Klaus, about the pictures…”

“Join me,” he cuts her off before he can help himself, reaching for her across the seat, “not as an assistant. Act, produce, write… whatever you like.”

She pulls away and he feels a cold pit settle in his stomach at the sudden absence of her touch. She’s staring at him like he’s insulted her, and he realizes in horror that she thinks he’s joking. Playing with her.

“I’m serious, Caroline.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he searches for the words, “you’re intelligent. You have good instincts, and you’re strong. You’re full of light, and I’ve gotten used to the feel of it.” He smiles when she rolls her eyes at his arrogance, relaxing ever so slightly into his usual confidence, “I enjoy you, love. You’re wasted where you are right now. They don’t appreciate you.”

“They appreciate me. Elena called just this morning, to warn me about those pictures, which is more than you did.”

“You had nothing to worry about when it came to those photographs,” he feels a surge of annoyance. Can’t she see the obvious? “Your little soap star only called once you were in danger of taking away her spotlight.”

The words are sharp, a jab, and he sees the flare of hurt in her eyes a second too late.

“She’s not like that.”

“Ask yourself why it’s taken her this long to return your calls, Caroline. You’re an employee, not a friend. Another person to use. She didn’t see your potential until you were standing next to me, threatening to interrupt her fifteen minutes of fame.”

She glares at him, eyes flashing, “Is that what you see, Klaus? Potential? Or just another pretty blonde to seduce the next time you’re bored on set? Because that didn’t go all to well for you this time, did it?”

“When I decide to seduce you Caroline, you’ll know.” He lets his voice dip, and watches the way her breath hitches ever so slightly in her throat. At least he knows she wants him, even if she hates him at the moment.

“You’re being an ass. And you’re wrong about Elena.”

He won’t deny the first.“I’m seldom wrong.”

“Well this time you are.” Her voice is sharp as she stands, scooping up her phone, “I appreciate the offer, Klaus, but I’m spoken for.”

She moves down the aisle, maybe looking for another seat. Maybe on her way back to Stefan, to nurture and cuddle him into doing her will. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.

Yes, he’s selfish and cruel and a bit of an ass. But he sees her, sees everything she could be, and that she decides to blind herself against that, to accept anything but the absolute best is utterly unacceptable.

Klaus catches up with her in three long strides, spinning her to face him. He has a thousand words prepared, but the plane happens to jostle at just the right angle, and they catch each other, pulled flush together by the movement of the plane.

“Klaus…”

She licks her lips, parted around the taste of his name, and before he has a moment to think, Klaus swoops down and claims them.

For one glorious moment she melts into him and he memorizes the feel of her skin pressed against his own, the taste of sunlight on his tongue.

“Forget the job,” he whispers, words catching in his throat when she finally pulls away, “just join me.”

She shakes her head, untangling herself from his hold. He forces himself to let her step away, pushes down the urge to wind his fingers in her golden hair and pull her close, to never let her go again.

“I can’t.” She says, taking another step towards the back of the plane, “I’m sorry Klaus.”

This time, when the plane jostles, she reaches for the back of a seat instead of his hand. Klaus sinks back into his own, and lets her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a kiss! Hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> I won't let them angst for too long, promise. The next update should be along soon, with all of our faves (and Damon) showing up on set for some drama. Thanks for sticking around while I sorted out real life drama you guys, your comments are the more encouraging lovely things ever, I promise the next chapters will be up soon!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow,” Bonnie whistles from the doorway when she sees the flowers, “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with this guy?”
> 
> Our heroes are back at work, dealing with their issues, and definitely not trying to ignore their feelings. Significant flower arrangements abound.

 Caroline opens the door and is immediately greeted by the smell of flowers. A huge bouquet of pink and white peonies sits on the centre table of her suite, dwarfing the rest of the room and filling it with scent.

“Wow,” Bonnie whistles from the doorway, “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with this guy?”

Like Elena, she’d seen the pictures before they were taken down and apparently has no qualms teasing her about them. Caroline ignores her, walking inside and dropping face down onto the bed. Spain is on the same time zone as London, so she can’t blame jet lag, but she’s still exhausted from the plane.

“They’re nice,” she says, face buried in the pillow.

Bonnie follows her inside, sticking her own face into the midst of the blossoms and breathing deeply.

“These smell incredible. Now answer the question.”

“I didn’t sleep with him. I actually shut him down pretty hard on the plane ride back.” If this is how Bonnie reacts to a few paparazzi pictures, she’s definitely not telling her about that kiss. Or the offer that still makes her feel slightly sick with unease, deep in her gut.

“Well, if this is an apology bouquet, imagine what he’ll send when you _do_ sleep with him.”

Caroline swats at her friend, who just laughs.

“Hey! I’ve seen his films. The man is fine.”

“Still a jerk though.” She reaches for the card, a little sad that she’s going to have to toss such a beautiful bouquet in the trash can. It might be a challenge to find one big enough. Up close, the arrangement stands taller than the top of her head. And Caroline is wearing heels.

She flips the little embossed card over, and reads the handwritten note.

“Oh,” she says, surprised, “they’re from Stefan.”

“You slept with Stefan? Plot twist.”

“Ew, no!” Caroline wrinkles her nose, then hands the card over to Bonnie to read, “it’s a thank you.”

“Dear Caroline, please consider these a small thank you for putting up with my shit this weekend, your friend, Stefan.” Bonnie reads, and then,“When did you two become friends?”

“At breakfast Saturday, when he tried to hire me out from under Elena.”

“Okay,” Bonnie says, laughing and flopping onto the bed, “catch me up on everything.”

Caroline grins, settling in beside her. They’ll get up in a few minutes to deal with Elena and studio reps and tomorrow’s shooting schedule. But for now, Caroline really just wants to gossip with her friend.

“Rebekah Mikaelsson threatened to throw me off a roof,” she says, enjoying the look on the other girl’s face. Then giggles, ducking to dodge the pillow aimed at her face. She’d missed Bonnie.

 

The two of them fall asleep on her bed, Bonnie exhausted from jet lag and Caroline tired out from the intensity of the weekend. She wakes up just before dawn and gets up to pull a blanket over her friend, before crossing the room to curl up on the windowsill.

She presses her forehead against the glass. Even in June, it gets cold here at night. A damp cold, so different from the chill she’d felt that first night at the Villa, climbing the hills looking for wifi.

It feels like so long ago. It doesn’t seem possible that just a few weeks ago Klaus was just some movie star she’d flirted with at the airport once. A funny story to tell her friends, nothing more.

And now he’s… Klaus. Whatever that means.

She takes a deep breath, tasting the scent ofthe peonies from across the room. He’d been so mean, on the plane. Cruel, when she’d turned him down, aiming his words through all the little cracks in her armour.

What would have happened if she’d said yes before he could slip up and show his teeth? If she hadn’t pulled away from that kiss?

If she’d said yes, she could be curled up in his arms right now. She’d be able to kiss him again, pull him close and feel that shock of heat that comes every time his hands brush against her skin.

If she’d said yes, she’d spend the rest of her life chased by paparazzi. Her name would always be linked to his, no matter what she does next. Caroline isn’t foolish enough to think she can have a casual fling with a movie star. Definitely not with Klaus, who had looked at her with an intensity that makes her insides burn. His offer was a lot of things… callous and calculated yes, but not casual.

She leans back, curling her arms around her legs, watching the first rays of sun paint faint lines of pink across the London skyline. Bonnie is still asleep on the bed, Elena and Stefan and even Damon all accounted for in their hotel rooms. Her people are safe and taken care of. She’s doing a good job, being a good friend. She knows she made the right choice, walking away from Klaus.

She brushes a tentative fingers across lips that still burn from the taste of him. If only she could make herself believe it.

 

 

In the end the proposal scene goes about as well as expected. Stefan arrives on set a few minutes before they roll, and vanishes as soon as they call cut. No rehearsal or blocking, which the director will whine about all he likes once the actors are off set, but the performances work.

Stefan’s is good, actually. Somehow he’s taken all his angst and channelled it into a convincing performance. If it weren’t for the way he turns to ice as soon as the camera stops rolling Caroline would still believe he was in love with his co-star.

“He hates me,” Elena mutters, dropping into the canvas cast chair beside Caroline, “he really hates me.”

“It’s not coming through on camera though.”

“That’s not the point.”

Elena drops her face to her hands, and Caroline watches as Lexi, their makeup artist, jumps to her feet across set.

“What did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know!” When she looks up, her eyeliner is smudged.

Caroline takes the tissue Lexi hands her wordlessly and passes it to Elena, pausing their conversation so the other woman can do a quick fix.

“Look,” Carline lowers her voice as Lexi exits, “you just broke up with him. For his brother.”

“So it’s going to take some time, I know, I know.”

“Take some time? You _slept with his brother_.”

Elena rolls her eyes, frustrated. “I apologized. Profusely. He’s the one who fled the country.” She leans in, conspiratorial, “I think Klaus Mikaelsson is poisoning him against the show… Damon says he’s trying to get the Warner Bros to give him a directing deal, but he needs to cast star power for it to go through. He wants to steal Stefan.”

Caroline holds her tongue. She doesn’t want to explain to Elena how she heard Klaus already has that deal. Or get into a fight about where exactly she and Stefan rank in terms of star power.

Plus, knowing something Damon doesn’t is a new sort of thrill.

“I wouldn’t worry about Klaus,” she says instead, as diplomatic as she can be.

“What happened with you two, anyway?”

“Nothing.” She knows her response is too quick, an obvious lie, as soon as it leaves her mouth. But lucky for Caroline, something else has caught Elena’s attention.

“Oh thank god,” she breathes in relief, “I was dying for caffeine.”

“Happy to be of service. Sorry Blondie, I would have brought you one but I thought you were still on vacation.”

The sound of his voice is enough to raise her hackles on a good day, but combined with that smirk and the fact that he’s handing Elena a cup of Starbucks like all this is _normal_ is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

“Damon.”

He’s lucky he didn’t bring her anything. He’d just end up with expensive coffee all over his pretentious leather jacket.

Caroline does a quick scan of the set. They’re filming in the lower levels of Covent Garden, closing down a section of the market so they can shoot the proposal under pretty twinkle lights while street musicians play soft music in the background. They’re surrounded on all sides by walls of black canvas to keep the tourists at bay, with securityon the other side. But there’s still the upper levels, and plenty of spots in shops and cafes where paparazzi or fans might lean over with a camera and spot them.

“You can’t be here,” she tells Damon, planting her hands on her hips, “someone will get a photo of the two of you.”

“I’m a producer on the show, I’m allowed on set.”

“You’re a co-producer,” Stefan’s voice comes from somewhere behind them, “and also a colossal asshole.”

Caroline spins to find him standing a few paces off, smiling as Lexi dabs some concealer on his chin. To an outside observer he’s calm, friendly, non confrontational. But when he steps into Damon’s space, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocking ever so slightly forward on his heels, she can see the ice in his eyes.

“You weren’t even going to bring me a latte? Figured you owe me at least that.”

For a second there’s a flicker of remorse, or guilt maybe, in Damon’s eyes. Then it’s gone, replaced with what Caroline can only assume is his version of self preservation. He glances up at the mezzanine, where there must be four or five dozen cameras going off by now.

“Let’s not do anything hasty, brother.”

“Never.” Stefan’s smile only grows at Damon’s nerves, “we’re just having a friendly chat. Two brothers, a friend, and the girl who screwed them both.”

Elena looks like she’s been slapped, then schools her face into something like a calm when Damon slides his hand into hers. Stefan still hasn’t said a word in her direction.

“Stefan…”

“Don’t.” He doesn’t take his eyes from Damon’s face, “you’re going to smile now,” he instructs, “and we’re going to laugh at something, like everything is fine. And then I’m going to go back to my trailer, and Elena will go to hers, and neither of you will attempt to make any sort of contact with me again, until I decide I’m ready. Understood?”

Damon starts to say something, but Stefan cuts him off.

“No, I didn’t say talk. I don’t want to hear your voice. Just nod. _Do you understand?_ ”

He’s still smiling, and if Caroline wasn’t two feet away listening to the hushed words, she’d assume the expression was friendly rather than threatening. She would be wrong.

Damon is less of an actor, his neck reddening with the effort not to throw a punch in his brother’s direction. For a second, Caroline thinks he’ll blow it. But reason takes over and he nods, slowly, his hand tightening to a vice grip around Elena’s.

“Good.” Stefan claps him on the shoulder, harder than necessary, then beams up at the gathering paparazzi, “I think we’ve given them what they want. Caroline, Klaus is taking us for dinner tonight. Does eight work for you?”

She doesn’t have energy to be embarrassed, she’s using it all to keep from beaming.

“Sure.”

“Great. We can share a cab over.”

He gives the cameras one more wave, and then he’s gone, leaving Caroline with an actress who is staring at her with eyes the size of saucers, and a producer who appears to be in danger of having a stroke.

“I’m gonna just… go.” She says, keeping her expression as neutral as possible as she ducks off set and down the closest alleyway.

For the sake of her job, she waits until she’s half a block away before falling back against the brick wall and dissolving into laughter.

 

They’re sitting in Stefan’s room hours later, crosslegged on the floor with the contents of the mini bar spread between them. Now that those photos are out Stefan can’t be seen outdoors without Damon or Elena, since they're supposed to be all chummy again. Getting trashed at a bar with his ex’s assistant doesn’t really fit into that narrative.

So they’re getting trashed in his hotel room instead.

“You might just be my hero,” Caroline admits, pouring three tiny bottles of Jack Daniels into a glass, “I had no idea you were going to do that.”

“Neither did I, until I walked in and saw Damon with her. I just thought, our agents are going to force us to make nice in front of the press at some point, why not get it over with on my own terms?”

“Damon looked like his head was going to explode. I had to work so hard not to laugh.”

“Honestly, watching you struggle was almost as fun as watching Damon.”

Neither of them brings up Elena. Caroline knows there’s a reason she’s in Stefan’s room right now, instead of her best friend’s. She drains her glass instead of thinking about it. Thinking is for sober people.

“Hey,” Stefan nudges her, suddenly serious, “thank you. For being there.”

She could tell him it’s her job, but she doesn’t. Caroline tips her head against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of him. It’s nice, having a friend.

“You’re welcome.” She says, and then, “But you know I can’t go to dinner with Klaus, right?”

“I figured. It was funny though.”

Yeah, she won’t soon forget the look on Damon’s face when he thought she had a private line to one of Hollywood’s biggest names.

Stefan shifts, watching at her from the corner of his eye, “what happened with the two of you, on the plane? Have you talked?”

“You heard all that?”

“Those curtains they have separating the compartments only look like walls Caroline. They’re not soundproof.”

Caroline groans, slumping back to lean on him completely.

“Nothing happened,” she whines, “Nothing except I turned down the biggest movie star on the planet, and then _you_ sent me flowers.”

“Did you want Klaus to send you flowers?”

“No.” She hesitates, “Maybe. I don’t know. I want you to get more alcohol.”

He laughs, gentle, and passes her another of the tiny glass bottles. Gin, and definitely not enough of it. She sighs, downs it.

“So?”

“So… so I don’t want to be Klaus Mikaelsson’s girlfriend.” Caroline says, feeling the last twenty four hours frustration bubbling up, loosened by the alcohol, “I’m not going to blow my whole life up for what might be nothing. We’ve known each other for a week. Barely. That’s not worth being chased by paparazzi every day. That’s barely even a fling.”

Stefan moves to lie down on the floor, forcing her to sit up on her own. It’s hard. He stares into space, thinking for a minute.

“I don’t think he wants a fling,” he says, waving her off before she can interrupt, “Hey. I know the guy, remember? I’ve seen his flings.” He frowns and Caroline giggles as he pulls a face and pretends to shake the image from his head.

“The way he looked at you… I know I was in a booze haze most of the weekend, but I haven’t seen him look at many people like that before.”

He lets that sink in. Caroline takes another drink, stalling. Now they’re out of gin.

“It’s not really about the publicity though, is it?” Stefan asks, finally.

Caroline sighs, lowering herself to the floor so they’re lying side by side. It’s easier to just talk to the ceiling, sometimes.

“It is, a little. Remember what happened that one time Alaric hugged me in public? My mom got emails about it. And random fans still try to add me on facebook because of Elena. He’s a whole other level of that. He’s… he’s Klaus Mikaelsson.”

“He’s also Klaus.”

“Yeah. That’s another problem.”

Klaus, who can turn from charming to furious on a dime. Who’d openly admitted to using people, who wears his ambition and capacity for cruelty on his sleeve like a badge of honour. Who wants to promise her the world and looks at her with such intensity she thinks her insides might burn up from the force of it. He’s dangerous. Too much too soon.

“But you _want_ him,” Stefan says, finally.

“Yeah. I’m hard to get, not a nun.”

Stefan’s lips quirk up in the tiniest smirk, and she swats at him.

“Photos of us got out before we left Spain,” she admits, “harmless, but he shut them down. I think it was pretty expensive. He said that when I decided to be linked with him in public, he wanted it to be my choice.”

Maybe that’s what’s really scaring her, the promise he’d implied. Like their future was inevitable. Like he’d just… wait for her.

“He scares me,” she admits, staring up at the ceiling as it starts to spin.

Beside her Stefan reaches out and takes her hand. Her anchor.

“Yeah,” he whispers, lost in his own thoughts, “me too.”

 

 

“You scare her. You know that, don’t you?”

Klaus eyes Marcel over his wine glass, measuring the other man up. When his lackey had mentioned he’d be in London for the weekend and that they should meet for drinks, he’d known there was something amiss.

Marcel was one of his closest friends. That didn’t mean they would ever casually _hang out_ without a hidden motive.

He tips back the glass, draining it and setting it down before giving an answer.

“And why should I care what little Davina Claire thinks of me?”

“I read that script Elijah sent you. She’s perfect for the lead. But she can’t audition if she’s terrified.”

“So your protege has decided to act, and you want my help.” Klaus surpasses the urge to roll his eyes. How predictable.

To his credit, Marcel doesn’t rise to the bait.

“You’ve always wanted my honest opinion, right? Well, you need talented people to make this movie work. Some names to sell it, and an unknown to prove you’re not being carried by your famous friends.”

“Famous friends?”

“I’m gonna assume the sudden reappearance of Stefan Salvatore in your life isn’t a coincidence.”

Klaus feels a smile tug at his lips. Marcel is partially right. He sent Stefan the script a few days before, and the response has been positive. It’s a period drama, with just the right amount of longing looks and brooding to suit his friend’s talents.

He can’t stop picturing the lead as a blonde though, and Davina is a brunette.

“Fine,” he hears himself snap, trying to shake the sudden image of Caroline from his head, “she can audition. I’ll play nice.”

“Thank you.” Marcel leans backin the booth, taking a sip of his own wine, “now you want to tell me what happened with that assistant you had me research? I heard she was in Spain with you on that little getaway.”

“Do you have a source for that bit of gossip?”

Marcel smiles into his drink, “I’m not naming names, if you’re going to put them out of business for bad press. Some of us need sources you can’t touch.”

Klaus files away that tidbit for later. It’s a nice night. Up until the mention of Caroline, he was enjoying being friendly.

And Marcel _is_ a friend.

“Nothing happened with the assistant,” he says, “I made a job offer, she wasn’t interested.” He watches the wheels turn behind Marcel’s eyes as he takes the half-truth in. Interesting, but hardly worthy of a gossip column. If Marcel believes him, Caroline’s name will stay safely out of the press.

“If you’re looking for an assistant, I’ll put together a list,” The other man says, “but I get it, rejection stings.”

Klaus sits back, relaxing as Marcel waves at the waiter for another round, subject already half forgotten.

“My friend, you have no idea.”

 

The truth is, it’s easy to fall back into life without Caroline. He’s busy with rehearsals for the play, going over rewrites of the script whenever he has a spare minute, calling in favours from the friends and allies he’s collected over the years. He needs top cast, top crew, the best locations and equipment money can buy if he’s going to pull this off.

Klaus has been plotting his rise to the top since he started acting, and it all hinges on this film being a success. He’ll build an empire off it, but even with his family’s help, it’s no small task. He can easily fill his days with business, a never-ending task list taking up his waking hours.

His nights, on the other hand… well they would be a lot more restful if a certain blonde didn’t keep popping up in his dreams.

“Earth to Klaus. You okay there buddy?”

Klaus blinks, realizes he’s been staring into space. Stefan stands across from him, waving a hand in his face and smirking.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, as if he isn’t the one person on the planet fully aware of what - or rather who - has been distracting Klaus lately.

“Nowhere. I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sure.”

Klaus stands, and Stefan falls into step beside him. He’d almost forgotten he’d promised to tour the other man around the theatre today.

That was the one positive after Spain - now that he and and the Gilbert girl were officially split, Stefan had become a near constant presence in Klaus’s day to day life.

He’d been nervous on set, at first. But Caroline had done a good job - unsurprisingly - keeping things under control on the production side. And it sounded like when things did explode, it had gone in Stefan’s favour.

His friend didn’t give specifics, but Klaus doubted Damon would be showing his face on set again soon. And from what the bartender at the hotel told him, Stefan had only indulged once, in the safe company of Caroline, since returning to London.

He was going to be okay. Probably.

Still, Stefan wasn’t ready to be alone for long stretches of time. With Caroline still officially working for his ex, it fell to Klaus to entertain him.

Once he put his mind to it, it had only taken a few days of careful convincing to get Stefan to agree to audition for the film. If he got the part, they’d spend the next year together, between re-writes and rehearsals and shooting.

Not that Klaus was considering anyone else for the role, or even looking at other audition tapes. But Stefan never had to know that. He’d do a good job of it, and it would keep him out of trouble. Win win.

Klaus had his own motivations of course, as a director. But he thought he was getting the hang of this being-a-good-friend thing.

Today he’s just an actor in a play, touring his friend around the theatre he’ll call home for the next few weeks.

“So this is the Globe,” Stefan says, as Klaus leads him through the double doors to the main stage, “I see where it got it’s name.”

Three storeys of rows seating form a semi-circle around the stage in a perfect ring, the roof left open to the sky. Over the stage stretches a canopy painted with all the symbols of the zodiac, held up by four columns, one in each corner.

It’s simple, a perfect replica of Shakespeare’s original theatre, and starting next week Klaus is going to play Hamlet in it. It might be his most fitting role yet.

“Because it’s round,” Stefan continues, “very clever.”

“Yes, you’re a bloody genius. Well done.”

Stefan smirks. Again. He leans against the stage, crossing his arms as he clocks Klaus’s irritation. Klaus almost misses the days when Stefan was afraid of him, like everyone else.

“You’re in a terrible mood. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe I’m nervous.”

“Please. You were born to play Hamlet.”

Klaus isn’t sure if that’s a compliment. But Stefan continues before before he can cut him off.

“You could always just call her.”

He doesn’t have to ask who Stefan is talking about. Klaus frowns, feeling last night’s dark mood creeping back in. He’s never been known for his even temperament, and the sting of rejection hasn’t improved that lately.

“Caroline made it very clear that would not be welcome.” He makes no attempt to keep the disdain from his voice. Better to be angry than hurt.

Stefan shrugs, “did she?”

“You told me yourself that she’s not interested.”

“I said she wasn’t interested in having dinner with us the day after you offered her the world on a silver platter and she turned you down.”

Klaus frowns. If Stefan is trying to make a point, he’s doing a terrible job.

“Thank you for the reminder.”

Stefan ignores the warning in his tone, all but rolling his eyes. It’s what Klaus likes about his friend, and what he despises, this lack of intimidation.

“I’m just saying, dial it down a little. Try asking her for a drink before you propose again.”

“I didn’t propose.”

He didn’t. But he offered part of himself, and she’d rejected it.

Stefan hums, attention apparently caught by decorations across the stage, and Klaus lowers his gaze, toying with a strand of the plastic ivy, determined not to give in as the silence stretches between them.

“I didn’t say yes the first time, you know,” Stefan says finally, carefully not meeting his eye.

“What?”

“When you wanted to work together. Right after Rebekah and I broke up, after I got out of rehab, you wanted me to come do that bit part in your latest blockbuster. I said no.”

Klaus remembers. It had been a last ditch attempt to keep Stefan in his life, clinging to the friendship even after his sister had made it clear she was done with the other man.

It would have been a weak move, except that Stefan was a good actor. Klaus was lucky that way - the few people he valued were talented as well as loyal.

“I remember.”

“I did a TV movie instead. Some commercials. And then Mystic. But you never stopped having Elijah send me scripts, reminding me the door was open, when I was ready.”

He’d known Klaus was behind that? That was unexpected.

“You’ve never been subtle when you want something, Klaus. Give her some time.” Stefan smiles to himself, privy to some joke Klaus doesn’t understand, “maybe start by sending flowers.”

He can’t get any more out of Stefan after that, no matter how much he needles and threatens, the other man just smirks and shrugs, quirking one eyebrow up with an annoying know-it-all calm.

In the end Klaus gives up and rushes through the rest of the tour, breezing through the dressing rooms and set pieces. Stefan has lines to memorize and scenes to shoot tomorrow. He can keep busy himself. Klaus has a flower shop to find.

 

 

He sends her wildflowers. And while no one in their right mind would call the bouquet small - Caroline needs both hands and some help from Bonnie to carry it in from the hall - it’s not the towering monstrosity she’d would have expected, if someone told her Klaus was going to send flowers.

They’re downright subtle, for him. Red poppies and yellow daisies and little violet thistles, in a simple glass vase.

“Someone sent you weeds,” Damon announces, as he passes by on his way to Elena’s room, “secret admirer?”

“They’re wildflowers.” Caroline snaps. She doesn’t tell him that the sight of the bright colours had immediately transported her back to the vineyard, to the first early morning she’d spent wandering with Klaus, bickering over wifi.

It feels like a secret, a message whispered in code. Remember that time? That place? When we were together? I do.

She buries her face in the blossoms, ignoring whatever clever comment Damon’s come up with to insult her. Enjoys the feel of soft flower petals brushing her cheeks, breathes in their soft scent.

They’re not weeds. They’re perfect.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter yet, and we're almost done! Thank you so much for reading and commenting and following this story you guys, it's been so fun.
> 
> Also, I admit... I'm just sitting down to write the ending, and for once I'm not sure exactly where it will go. What do you want to see?


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming is wrapping up, and so is Caroline's time in London. It's time to make a decision.

While perfect, wildflowers wilt quickly. They're gone in a week with a last burst of sweet perfume lingering in the air, teasing Caroline when she finally has to set the vase in the hallway for housekeeping to clear away.

It's barely faded before the next token arrives, a small, expensive box of chocolates. There's only four in the box, nestled in deep purple tissue paper, dark, with raspberry filling.

There's no card, but as she savours the oh-so-perfect, oh-so-decadent flavour, she knows that they could only be from Klaus.

He's not subtle. But he's not pushy either, and while the gifts keep coming, a slow trickle that appear at random - a postcard, a notebook, a pair of the softest gloves the night after the temperatures start to drop - Caroline finds herself getting used to them. He never reaches out, never even sends a note, after the flowers. And while Stefan sees him regularly, pretty much whenever he's not working or with her, Klaus never takes advantage of the connection.

He could so easily just show up on set - it's common knowledge now that he's going to cast Stefan in a film. No one would be surprised to see him at the trailers, or wandering through the hotel lobby. But he doesn’t.

And then one day, Caroline realizes she's looking for him.

She's standing in the middle of the Victoria and Albert, waiting for Bonnie to finish up in the gift shop, while Elena chats with some of her politer fans, when she spots a familiar thatch of red-blonde hair bent over a sketchbook between the sculptures.

The sight is such a shock, even after the young man turns, revealing a face that is definitely not Klaus's, that it leaves her heart racing with nervous energy.

She'd wanted it to be him. Had started mapping out a conversation, snappy comments and observations, the second she'd spotted him. Had been half expecting it, hoping really, to see him from the moment they'd walked into the museum a few hours ago.

After all, there was that absurd romantic voice in the back of her head that kept whispering he'd recommended the place, the first time they'd met. It was theirs, somehow. Part of the story she can't seem to stop telling herself.

"Earth to Caroline."

She startles as Elena's hand lands on her arm, shaking her from her thoughts.

"You okay Care?" she continues, looking her over with concern, "you drifted off."

"I was just… thinking about the art."

Elena frowns, unconvinced, “Okay. Should we head out? I think Bonnie's about done."

Caroline nods, collecting her own shopping bags and following her friends towards the exit. Klaus was right - it was the best gift shop she'd ever been in, and she hadn't been able to resist some of the glossiest photo books.

She shook off the memory of his voice, teasing and familiar, even when they first met. Tomorrow was the last day of filming, and then they'd be flying home, off on hiatus for a whole month. This was their last chance to explore the city before jetting back to boring old LA.

"Okay, that was Caroline's choice," Bonnie says, reading off the list Caroline had talked them into making earlier that morning, "what's next? I've got Hyde Park, and then Harrods for Elena."

"Oh, can we do Harrods first? Damon's going to meet me for lunch, and I don't want to miss it."

Bonnie and Caroline exchange a look, both clocking Elena's carefully casual tone.

"Damon's meeting you?" Bonnie asks, cautious, "I thought everyone agreed you guys weren't going to be public until we get back to LA."

"I know! And we're not. He booked a private room, it's totally low key." She rolls her eyes, and Caroline realizes she must have a judgy expression on her face again, because Elena's next words come out defensive, "It's not like everyone doesn't know already…"

"Still, we should probably stick to the plan."

"It's just lunch, Bonnie."

"It's not just lunch!" Caroline feels the words slip out before she can stop them, "What? It's not! And besides, it's supposed to be girls day. Bonnie wants to see the park, so we should see the park. All of us, right Bonnie?"

She knows it's petty, but she can't help but feel a bit of vindication when the look in Bonnie's eyes says she agrees, even as her friend shrugs, trying to keep the peace.

Elena sighs. "Care, I get it. We haven't been spending much time together lately, and…"

"No! That's not it."

"Well what is it?"

Elena is using her nice voice, the one that makes fans melt and reminds Caroline that they've been friends since they were in pigtails, so she isn’t allowed to be mad. Not really.

But she wants to be. Suddenly she really wants to be.

"It's just…"

"What? You don't like that I'm getting lunch without you? Or that I'm getting lunch with Damon?"

"I don't like him! I'm sorry, I don't! He's not a good guy!" Caroline ducks away, brushing Bonnie's comforting hand away as it reaches for her shoulder, "Sorry, it has to be said. He's not."

"And Klaus Mikaelsson is?"

Her blood freezes.

"What did you say?"

Elena just shakes her head, looking as frustrated as Caroline feels. She knows she should end this now, before it gets out of hand and they break the careful balance they've been keeping for years and years, since Elena got her big break and they decided to pretend it wouldn't change everything.

"Forget it. Can we just go to Harrods? People are staring."

They aren't. No one in this crowd is paying any attention. To passerby they're just three friends, arguing in front of a landmark. Not a single person knows who Elena is, or cares. The realization is refreshing.

"Really, we should go somewhere else," Elena says, fidgeting, totally unaware of her own anonymity.

It’s a shock as strong as realizing she’s been looking for Klaus. For the first time in years, Caroline doesn't feel bad for her.

The truth is, things have changed. Whether it was when Elena let Damon in, or when Caroline decided to follow Klaus onto that plane, or even long before, they'd changed. They'd changed, and Caroline isn't the sort of person who can just back down anymore, to spare someone else.

Klaus didn't mind when people hated him. He relished in arguments and anger and chaos, and somehow managed to keep the people he loved most close to him. Seemed to understand how conflict could exist alongside something like love, rather than crush it.

She wants that. And before she quite knows what's happening, Caroline is turning on her heel and walking down the cobbled street, alone.

"Caroline, where are you going?"

"Hyde Park. Then Harrods. You coming?"

She only allows herself to feel the slightest vindication when Bonnie follows her, silent, leaving Elena alone in the crowd.

 

They make it all of two blocks, before Caroline finds herself folding onto a park bench and burying her face in her hands. Her legs feel like worn out rubber, her whole body suddenly drained.

"It's okay," Bonnie soothes, rubbing comforting circles over her back, "You guys will figure it out. I know you will."

Caroline nods, and wipes her face with the oh-so-soft gloves buried deep in her purse, after she runs out of tissues. And then when she can breathe normally again she turns off her phone and spends her second to last day in London being a tourist with her friend.

She doesn't tell Bonnie the tears weren't for Elena, not exactly.

 

"Does this mean you're reconsidering my job offer?"

"Just let me in please, Stefan."

Stefan holds the trailer door open, that big goofy smile spreading across his face as Caroline settles in on his couch, dropping her laptop and gear on his table. He's been using it more and more, in the weeks since they got back from Spain. It's like the old Stefan is almost back.

Which is good, since she could use some nice-guy cheer to counter her own gloomy mood.

He props his feet up on the table. "I was serious about doubling your salary."

"Thanks, but I think I'm done working for friends."

He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, giving her space to sort it out. Caroline sighs, hugging her knees to her chest. She should be checking on Elena's flights right now, worrying about hotel checkouts and wrap parties, but instead she's hiding in Stefan's trailer, desperate for a pep talk.

"We got in a fight," she says, finally.

"Yeah, I heard."

Caroline rolls her eyes, "Was it Lexi? Everyone talks to the makeup girls, I don't get it."

"There's not much else to do, in makeup. What did you fight about?"

"You don't even need much makeup. Your skin is perfect."

"Caroline."

He's perceptive. It would be annoying, except that it’s the last day of filming and she needs a friend right now. Since Bonnie's flown back to LA to deal with business, he's all she's got. And besides, she tells herself, she's seen Stefan vulnerable. He can't judge her for a bit of weakness.

"Okay, okay. It was about Damon. But also… not? I think we're maybe done, at least done working together," she shakes her head, "she brought up Klaus, and I just snapped."

"How does Elena know about Klaus?"

"She saw the pictures before they got taken down. Long story. It was the only time she called, actually," that still stings, "Klaus said she was jealous of the attention it would get me, if we were seen together. In public."

"And you don't like realizing Elena could be that person."

He says it so rationally Caroline wants to throw her laptop at him. He's being very mature and annoying.

"Can you just give me a pep talk and tell me it's all going to be okay, please?"

Stefan laughs, then comes to sit next to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "It's going to be okay," he says, pressing a kiss against her hair, when she tips her head to rest on his shoulder, "You're a great assistant, but sounds like it's time to move on. If Elena's your friend, the two of you will get through the rest of it."

"You're being very rational. It's annoying."

Another huff of laughter. She can feel the vibrations through his chest, warm and comforting.

"Also for the record? I think you should talk to Klaus. Maybe thank him for the gifts?"

Caroline sits up.

"He told you about that?"

Stefan all but smirks, "Caroline, who do you think gave him the idea?"

"Wow. Stefan Salvatore, telling off your brother, scheming with Klaus Mikaelsson. You really have gone to the dark side."

He rolls his eyes, standing to pick something up off of the desk.

"You're deflecting," he says, holding it out to her, "I was going to give this to the concierge for you later, but I guess you might as take it now."

It's a white envelope, with her name scrawled across the front. Even from across the trailer, Caroline recognizes the handwriting, and feels a stir of excitement deep in her chest.

"What is it?"

Stefan hands it over, watches as Caroline carefully peels it open, and reads over the contents.

"Tickets to Hamlet. That's his play, isn't it?"

Stefan's smile is soft, "First show's tonight."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Merry Christmas everyone! I only seem to be able to write this particular story while I’m travelling, so I’m sorry for the very sporadic updates. But good news! We’re currently curled up in a little cabin in the snow, and I’ve just written the last paragraph of the epilogue. So thanks to all who have stuck around, and stay tuned over the next few days for the last chapters!


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first show ends with a standing ovation. Caroline is not in the audience. Unlike the applause, Klaus hd known there was a very real chance the pretty blonde would choose to stay away. Still, it stings."
> 
> Klaus's play is a success. And Caroline makes her decision.

It’s terrible luck that Klaus’s play lands on the very last day of shooting. The director works everyone hard, driving them deep into overtime to get the last scene absolutely perfect, adding shot after shot while the actors pace and the crew grumbles about getting home before dawn.

Caroline goes on her sixth coffee run of the day at 10:00pm, then ends up sitting in Elena’s chair for the last hour, triple checking everyone’s flights home and idly scrolling through instagram. A flurry of fan accounts remind her that she’s already missed the first half of the play, even as the unused tickets burn a hole in the bottom of her bag. The comments are raving, not just about how hot the A-list actor leading is, but about the depth, the character, the way the company took a new angle on one of the most performed of the bard’s plays. There’s enough agreement among them that Caroline can safely assume the reviews that come out the next morning will say the same.

Klaus is a success. A serious actor, in and out of Hollywood. Caroline can’t help but feel a small bubble of pride forming in her chest as she imagines Klaus bowing in front of the cheering crowd. She can imagine him standing barefoot and nervous in his hotel room tomorrow morning, flipping through the newspaper that came with room service to find the rave review. Can picture the little smile he’d allow himself, relieved, pleased at his own success.

“Googling your boyfriend?”

Caroline’s head snaps up to see Damon sauntering over. They’re in studio, the cast and crew shooting just on the other side of a plywood wall, but it doesn’t stop Damon Salvatore from speaking at top volume. Caroline raises her eyebrows, a warning, and points to the red light flashing in one corner to signal that they’re still rolling.

Damon shrugs, starts picking at the tray of coffees she brought in earlier.

“Those aren’t for you,” Caroline hisses.

Another shrug. Damon selects a quickly cooling latte labelled “Stefan” and takes a sip. Or tries - halfway to his lips it’s plucked from his hand, and Stefan drops into the seat next to Caroline.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, ignoring Damon’s look of disgust. It’s been a week since Covent Garden, and the brothers still haven’t spoken.

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait,” Stefan gives her a look, “Why are you still here? It’s after eleven. You’re going to miss the play.”

“We haven’t wrapped yet.”

“What play?”

Elena’s joined them now, slipping under Damon’s arm as he steals a sip of her iced coffee. Normally the sight of Damon Salvatore drinking an iced caramel macchiato through a straw would make even Caroline giggle, but right now she’s more focused on how her best friend - and boss - is narrowing her eyes, putting two and two together.

“Klaus Mikaelsson is in a play right now…”

“Yes Elena, I was supposed to go to Klaus’s play.”

“But it’s sold out. Has been for months.”

Damon gives Elena a look, surprised by his girlfriend for once, “You tried to get tickets?”

“No! I just… looked. It’s all over twitter.”

Yeah, a selfie backstage with Klaus would have definitely gotten Elenaa lot of instagram likes.

“Wait,” Elena’s eyes light up, “Did he get you tickets? Do you think there’s an afterparty?”

“We haven’t even wrapped yet.”

Elena shrugs, so like Damon that Caroline blinks, “So book the car service for when we do, and let Lexi know I’ll need my makeup done. She’s got that glittery eyeliner that’s great for parties.”

Caroline hesitates, and Elena picks up on it.

“We can get her to do your makeup too Care, don’t worry.”

“That’s not… I can’t just get us into an afterparty that may or may not exist. You just said the show’s been sold out for weeks.”

Elena looks between Caroline and Stefan, acknowledging her co-star for the first time.

“But…” she starts, eyes wide, “Aren’t you guys like, friends?”

“You told me to stay away from him.”

“Yeah, but…”

But now it’s useful, to have someone on the inside, and whatever danger Klaus may or may not pose to Caroline is negated by what he can do for Elena.

Caroline is pretty sure there’s an afterparty. And Elena’s right, it would be easy to book a car. And the glittery eyeliner would look good.

She stands so quickly that the chair printed with Elena’s name almost tips over.

“You know what?” Caroline says, “I have somewhere to be.”

 

The first show ends with a standing ovation.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. The first two months sold out the day Klaus’s name was attached to the project, and more than half the audience in attendance is there for a chance to see him perform close up. He’d stepped on stage with a sure win in his pocket.

Still, there’s always that small voice in the back of Klaus’s head that whispers he might fail. This might be the moment they all realize he’s been faking it, a failure all along.

But they loved him. And as he takes a final bow, the rapturous applause drowns out Michael’s voice in his head, just for a moment.

Caroline is not in the audience. Unlike the applause, he’d known there was a very real chance the pretty blonde would choose to stay away. Still, it stings when he finally walks backstage to the empty dressing room, closing the door on the sound of his cast mates still celebrating backstage. He’d worked hard to stay away, following Stefan’s advice, sending trinkets every once in a while but never pushing, never invading her space.

Stefan had warned him that Caroline might pull away. Rebekah had told him to walk away first, before he got burned. Elijah had offered to reach out on his behalf, while Kol just cackled, enjoying his brother’s discomfort.

He hadn’t said a word to Marcel, or his current cast mates, who simply believed his brooding persona was a means of getting into character. Poor tortured Hamlet, driven mad by loss and love.

But he’d hoped, when he gave Stefan the tickets to pass on to Caroline. And now the only person Klaus really wanted to talk to about anything was Caroline herself. He has his phone in hand before he knows quite what he’s doing, opened up to her contact info, a photo Stefan had snapped of her in the yellow sundress that first breakfast at the villa.

His thumb hovers over the call button for longer than he’d like to admit, and then with click her face goes to black, and his phone is tucked away in his pocket, safely out of reach. Quick steps carry him out the door, past the post-performance party, and towards the exit.

He’s almost clear, when a hand reaches out and snags his arm, and Klaus finds himself face to face with a very inebriated Haley.

“You’re not staying?”

“Not really my scene.”

Haley frowns, and so Klaus makes a show of looking around the hallway. Dressing room doors are propped open with bricks stolen from the set, and cast traipse from one to another, still half costumed, trailing glitter and champagne bubbles behind them. Somewhere far off there’s the sound of pizza being ordered, more bottles opened. In half an hour the place will be full blown chaos, just as the bard would have wanted.

It’s exactly his scene. But not tonight.

“I’m tired Haley.”

She pulls a face, tugging at his arm, “Come on Klaus,” she says, “Drop the character.”

Haley plays the Ophelia to his Prince of Denmark - the only poor casting choice in his opinion. She’s talent for sure, but even on stage she’s a touch too cunning to pass as a love addled virgin. And backstage her intelligence is in full view.

Klaus likes her. Might find a use for her one day. So he resists the urge to rip her head off, and simply shakes her hand from his arm instead.

“Not tonight love.”

“Fine,” her eyes are more annoyed than hurt. He can work with that. “You should check the stage though. Someone sent a gift.”

Then she’s off, and Klaus finds that horrible bubble of hope forming in his chest once again.

 

It’s probably just a bottle of obnoxiously expensive wine from Stefan, or a bunch of ironic flowers from Rebekah. A fruit basket even, picked out by Marcel’s latest assistant.

It won’t be her, Klaus tells himself, his own inner monologue blending with Mikael’s voice in his head. Caroline declined his offer, skipped his show. She’s made her choice clear, and for once he’s going to be the better man - a good man - and respect that.

And then he turns a corner, and the heavy wooden doors fall shut blocking out the noise of the party behind him, and Caroline Forbes is standing on Shakespeare’s stage, waiting for him.

She looks like an angel, surrounded by paintings of nymphs and old gods, lit by starlight, her hair floating loose over her shoulders like a golden halo. An angel, or a goddess. Klaus has stood on that stage a hundred times now, watched a dozen actresses pace to and fro across it to the applause of hundreds - none have been as beautiful as Caroline, carrying an overstuffed handbag that hints she’s come straight from set.

“It’s round,” she says when she spots him, looking up at the columns, the canopy with it’s silver stars, the roof left open to the sky, “I guess that’s why they call it the Globe.”

Klaus must make a face, because she giggles.

“Stefan told me to say that,” she says, “he said you’d laugh.”

She still looks nervous, dropping her eyes when he fails to do so. He’s still not sure why she’s here - whether he should argue or cajole or sweep her up in his arms and take her away before she has a chance to change her mind, if she’s even made it up at all.

“I’m sorry I missed the show,” she says finally, setting her bag down and stepping off the stage, “I heard you were incredible.”

“Is that a compliment from Caroline Forbes?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

They both crack a smile at that. She fidgets, and it takes all of Klaus’s willpower not to take that final step and close the distance between them for good.

“Oh, fuck it.” She says suddenly, and then she does it for him.

It’s a messy kiss, impulsive, her hands tangled in the collar of his shirt as she pulls his lips down to meet her own. Shock freezes him in place for a split second, and then he’s bending to meet her properly, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer, deepening the embrace.

She tastes like sunshine and honey and springtime, and when she moansinto his mouth the noise sends a rush of heat straight through his gut. He’s never going to let go.

She pulls away first, pressing her forehead into his chest, giggling against his skin.

“Something funny, love?”

“No,” she peers up at him through her lashes, cheeks tinged pink, “but if we stand here any longer, someone’s going to walk in.”

Pictures of hand holding in an alleyway are easily shut down. Kissing on Shakespeare’s stage would be an expensive cover up. Klaus thinks he might be willing to pay it.

He bends for another kiss, but Caroline ducks away, face turning serious. Klaus lets her take a step back, her fingers trailing over his arm, distracted, reaching up to tuck a messy strand of hair behind her ear. She swallows, hard, and his eyes follow the swell of her throat to her lips still flush from his kiss.

“I quit my job,” she says, words she’d hesitated over before now tumbling out in a maddening rush, “I just walked off set and got in a car, and I thought you’d be at an after party or something and I had a whole list of what I was going to say and do, but then they said you were in your dressing room, and so I came here and I saw the stage.” She takes a deep breath, then continues as if she’s afraid he’ll interrupt, “And I just thought… I don’t know what I want. But I’m done cleaning up after other people.”

“If you want a role onstage, I’ll find you one.”

She shakes her head, blonde hair flying loose again with the movement, tangling in the front of his shirt buttons.

“I don’t want people to think I’m just getting work because we’re involved.”

Involved. The word prompts him to pull her close again, hands loose on her hips. She lets him.

“I can be careful, when I want to be.”

“Careful.” Caroline gives him a once over, thoughtful.

“Extremely careful. You’re not the only one who’s detail oriented,” he dips down for another kiss, brushes his lips against the shell of her ear, intent on showing her just how detail oriented he can be. Caroline hums her approval.

“No photos,” she argues when he finally pulls away, “no appearances, no interviews, nothing until I’ve established myself.”

It’s a good bargain, and nowhere near as hard as he’d expected. Klaus can’t help the smile growing across his face.

“I understand the rules, Caroline.”

“Good.” She smiles back, radiant, and he beams in the warmth of it.

“And now?”

“Now,” Caroline Forbes says, her voice switching back to that confident tone he so loves, “you get to whisk me back to whatever fancy hotel you’ve been hiding in all this time, and we split a very expensive bottle of wine.”

“Champagne,” Klaus counters, “we’re celebrating.”

She nods, smile growing, and Klaus sends a text for a car in record speed, as Caroline takes his arm and pulls him towards the door.

One day, sooner than she thinks, this girl will be running the world at his side. But for now they’re bickering over car service and Klaus is counting the seconds before he can kiss her in the backseat. For now, her hand is in his, and his fingertips are warm with sunshine and the promise of spring.

For now, that’s more than enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man it's almost done! It took these crazy kids a while, but they're finally kissing! And talking about feelings! And getting one last swipe at Damon, cause why not! I hope you guys like how it's all wrapping up - thanks for sticking around :) 
> 
> Also: I apologize for the possibly inaccurate descriptions of the dressing rooms at the Globe... I have no idea what that place looks like backstage.


End file.
